15

Chapter 15 – Dumbledore's Deathclaration

Tuesday 1st October 1991

Mannings Heath, West Sussex

"You're sure that there aren't any more of the things lying around?" Monica asked as they lay comfortably together.

"As sure as I can be. That should be the last of them. We're just waiting on Dumbledore to do his thing with the ring at the Gaunt shack before he's vulnerable once and for all."

"And if he wont?"

"If the worst comes to the worst and we can't get him off his arse to do something, I thought I might just head on down there and do things the Muggle way."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I figure that if a fire's hot enough it doesn't have to be fiendfyre to destroy something, and that it would do for the Horcrux even without being magical."

"Wouldn't that be dangerous?"

He shrugged. "Not really. I wasn't even planning on getting all that close."

"Let's hope Dumbledore saves you a job then."

"Yep. Not like most of the work isn't already done, thanks to Remus."

Once Malfoy had turned over the diary and it had been destroyed, Sirius and Monica had talked to Remus about getting into the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts.

Remus had picked up Ravenclaw's diadem and delivered it to Sirius for destruction the previous day.

"And he can't have made any more?"

"Not without a body to dissociate the soul from. Last time round he made another one after he got his body back and lodged it in his familiar, but that wasn't until after he reincorporated. You knew that already though."

"Just reassuring myself, I suppose," she replied. "Knowing you aren't going to be around much longer is kinda worrying."

"You managed for years without me," he reminded her, "and without magic, and as worn out as my body has become, it's a miracle that I even made it back here in one piece."

"I'm glad you never mentioned anything as pessimistic as that in your notes, you know. I probably would never have tried it if you'd given me expectations of it not working."

"I didn't have much to lose, remember?"

"Yeah."

"I was about to lose my old life, and didn't know whether that was going to kill me in and of itself, so of course I was optimistic about the whole thing."

"Still messed it up though!"

"Hey!"

"Well you did!"

"You don't have to remind me all the time," he pouted. "Just because I could have done it differently!"

"Well there's nobody else here that can remind you of it."

"Just as well. It's bad enough you and Agnes gossiping about me all the time, without there being other women you could share it with."

"Agnes and I do not gossip!"

"..."

"We do not!"

"If you say so, dear."

"And you can stop that, as well. I didn't put up with it from Ron and I'm certainly not going to put up with it from you!" She rapped him on the top of the head with her knuckles.

"Ow! Sorry, Hermione!"

"And stop calling me Hermione!"

"It's your name."

"Not any more. Can you imagine how quickly Dumbledore would have jumped to completely the right conclusion if I'd given my name to him as Hermione Granger?"

He shuddered.

"He would probably have obliviated you. Too much of a risk having knowledge of the future that might change the timeline, yadda yadda, only he could possibly know the right thing to do, et cetera."

"Exactly! And where would poor Harry be now, in that case?"

"Still at Hogwarts," he said with a grin, "but about five inches shorter and a stone and a half lighter from living in the cupboard under the stairs for another nine and a half years."

"And Sirius would still be in Azkaban!"

"Yep. And there would still be six Horcruxes floating around. Which was where we came in."

There was silence for a few moments.

"Five Horcruxes," he corrected.

"What?"

"There would only be five right now, because he hasn't yet created the one that he made out of the snake."

A brief silence, then:

"Does that mean we're only dependent on getting rid of the ring?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Wow!"

"Yep."

"I was thinking we still had one more to find."

"Nope."

Another moment of silence surrounded them as they took in the feeling of having nearly completed what they had come back for.

"Sirius and Agnes want to deal with the basilisk, you know," she told him.

"Yeah, I think you said.

"But they think Harry's too young to get him involved in opening the Chamber of Secrets."

"Too right."

"What? Twelve was old enough, but Eleven isn't?"

"Twelve was far too young, as well. I didn't get much choice though."

She rolled her eyes at him. Of course there'd been a choice. Picking a better teacher to take the matter to, for starters.

"Aren't you still a parselmouth?"

"I have no idea. But it's a magical language – if I have no magic any more, how could I speak it?"

"Maybe you should test it and check?"

He made a non-committal sound that she knew meant he had no intention of bothering.

"But what if Voldemort does come back? He'd have the basilisk at his command still..."

"Only if he could get into Hogwarts."

"Which he already is – on the back of Quirrell's head."

"Hmm... Forgot about that. I still don't think it's worth the risk of someone finding out about me, though."

"You mean Dumbledore."

"Yep."

"What could he do?"

"I don't know. But he could decide it affects Harry in some way, for some reason, and I don't want that. You and Sirius have spent enough energy already trying to get him to back away from the idea of Harry being involved."

"Fair enough," she agreed.

An hour later saw them in the kitchen, lingering over the remnants of breakfast, and onto their second cup of coffee of the morning, when the phone rang.

Monica answered it,, and from her tone it was clear that there was some sort of trouble.

"I'm going to Hogwarts," she told him. "Are you coming?"

"No. Still too risky," he replied.

"Apparently Dumbledore's been hurt."

"Even so."

"Your choice, of course. Do you think he's run into trouble with the ring like he did last time?"

"I suspect it's likely if he didn't take anyone as backup – you'd think he'd have got the point by now that we don't think going off on his own to do things is a great idea." He paused for a moment and grimaced. "Does it make me a bad person that I hope he has?"

"No, I don't think so," Monica replied.

"Then all I'll say for now is that we both already agree that Harry's life will be so much better if Dumbledore isn't busy interfering in it to mess things up again."

"I understand."

They made their farewells quietly and quickly, and Monica watched her friend drive off in his old Ford Sierra before Apparating away to Hogsmeade.

DOHPDOHPDOHPDOHPDOHPDOHPDOHP

Tuesday 1st October 1991

Hogsmeade/Hogwarts

"What took you so long?" Sirius asked her as she walked towards him from the Apparation point just outside the Three Broomsticks.

"Sorry! I didn't realise it was urgent!" she apologised.

"Well, probably it isn't. Poppy thinks he's got a few days to live, but apparently he's been calling for me urgently before he dies."

"He's dying? What of?"

"No idea!"

"Isn't that a bit weird?"

Monica was sure that Dumbledore would have called for Snape first of all, to try and counter the effects of the curse on his hand from putting the ring on, but perhaps this wasn't what was ailing the Headmaster. She didn't know what else might have brought him low so easily. Calling for Sirius instead was a strange move.

"It's Dumbledore, so weird is par for the course, I'd say. But yes, I couldn't think what he might have to say to me now that he couldn't have said before, nor why I'd be his first and most urgent call."

"Oh well. I guess we'll find out."

They walked quickly to the gates of Hogwarts, where Hagrid was already waiting to let them in. He looked about as miserable as Monica could ever remember seeing him, even compared with his breakdown at Norbert's departure.

"Grea' man, Dumbledore," was about all Hagrid seemed to be able to say through his muffled sobs, and they left him to close the gates behind them.

"Why didn't we Floo?" Sirius asked in puzzlement. "It would have saved us a walk."

"I don't have a Floo connection, remember?" Monica said.

"Next time, Apparate to Grimmauld Place and we can Floo from there."

Monica just shrugged.

The walk from the gates to the Hospital Wing took them about twenty minutes, and went quietly as they both pondered on what might have prompted Dumbledore to call for Sirius,

"Ah, there you are," Pomfrey said with relief as Sirius walked through the door. "Albus has been frantically waiting on you!"

"Is he okay?" Sirius asked. "I heard he was badly hurt."

"He thinks he is, but I can tell you now, that he's probably only got days to live after this latest stunt."

"What's he done?"

"The old fool has gotten himself cursed by something nasty, and something beyond my ability to heal!"

Monica and Sirius shared a glance. Finally, Dumbledore had tried to get the ring. It was the only thing they knew that would cause the Headmaster to succumb to such a curse; to have that chance to speak with his sister overrode all his common sense.

"A withering curse of some sort, is it, Poppy?" Sirius asked.

"However did you know?" she replied, her eyes wide in surprise.

"I think I may know where he picked it up. Come on, Monica, let's go talk to him."

"Don't tire him out too much," Poppy warned. "I've no idea why he called for you, but I'm aware you haven't exactly been on the best terms of late despite all he did for you."

"I'll try, Poppy, but you know what he's like."

Sirius and Monica moved out of Poppy's office/triage area and into the main part of the ward. Dumbledore was the only patient present, propped up in a bed in the middle, deep in concentration as he perused a large book.

"You wanted to see me, Dumbledore?" Sirius asked.

"Yes. Well, just you, really." he replied.

"I'm sure Monica will be of just as much use to you as I am," Sirius noted.

Dumbledore looked at them slyly.

"Does Agnes know you're out with another woman?"

"As a matter of fact, she does."

"I do wonder how the two of you became such good friends," he probed, "coming from such disparate backgrounds."

"Perhaps one day we shall regale you of how despite her fear of flying, she rescued me from a horde of Dementors on the back of a Hippogriff?" Sirius suggested.

Dumbledore chuckled, assuming that Sirius was just making something up, and tried to lift a hand. It was completely encased in bandages, and Sirius could see already that the curse was spreading from it and up into his forearm.

"I'm afraid such flights of fancy will have to wait, and I'm afraid that I may not be around long enough for a good, lengthy telling."

"Pomfrey told us about the withering curse. Does that mean that you've finally tracked down one the Horcruxes? It seems like just the sort of nasty curse that someone like Voldemort would use to protect his most precious items."

"Yes, indeed," the Headmaster replied. "But I'm afraid it got the better of me. Poppy thinks that I'll be gone in less than a month, but I am very hopeful that Severus will be able to brew something up that will keep me around a little longer.

"Either way, I have to say that it's likely this is my final stop on the road to the next great adventure."

He gesture to the bedside cabinet, where a small box sat.

"Tom Riddle's Horcrux, I'm sorry to say, was protected better than I thought possible. The ring that it was anchored to was no plain ring, and the lure of seeing my sister again overwhelmed my logic and reason. I tried the ring on, thinking it would help, but all it did was kill me."

Sirius walked across to the cabinet and opened the box, quickly closing it again with a queasy glance at Monica when he saw what was within.

"That was a bit drastic, Dumbledore," he said, finally.

"And ultimately futile," he agreed. "Removing my finger to get the ring off did nothing to stop the curse from spreading. It had, I imagine, already made its way into my hand. Cutting off more and more of my arm seemed like a bad idea at the time."

"At least it was the right arm," Monica muttered to herself.

"Did you not think it would be a good idea to take someone with you, Dumbledore?" Sirius asked. "Even if only to keep watch or cover your back in case any of the remaining Death Eaters were aware of the Horcrux and had set a trap for you?"

"I thought I knew what I was dealing with," Dumbledore replied.

Sirius just rolled his eyes.

"But, tell me, Sirius,"the Headmaster continued, "have you managed to destroy all the other Horcruxes?"

"Yes, we have."

"Ah! So much more than I ever expected. I'm afraid though, even after all that, I have bad news for you."

"What do you mean?"

I'm afraid there is still one Horcrux to deal with, and I'm so sorry for the additional pain this is going to cause you. It must be dealt with last of all, and it cannot be dealt with until after Voldemort regains a body."

"One more?"

"Yes. It pains me more that I can say to finally reveal this to you, Sirius, but Harry's scar contains a Horcrux. He will have to die in order for us to be able to vanquish the Dark Lord."

There was a long silence. Dumbledore took this to be of disbelief and shock rather than simply being dumbfounded that he could possibly think that way.

"This is why I have known all along that Harry's involvement was inevitable. As the Prophecy says, 'either must die at the hand of the other'. If Harry is killed by the Dark Lord, it will finally release that last Horcrux and make him mortal once more."

Another silence.

"Have you completely and utterly lost your mind, Dumbledore?" Monica asked. "You're spouting off absolute rubbish you know nothing about."

"But it must be done, dear lady, if we are to save the Wizarding World."

"I think not."

"Then you would condemn us all to hell. For without Harry's death at the hand of Voldemort, it will never be possible to definitively defeat him. A piece of him will always remain to tie his soul to this earth and enable him to regain a body at some point."

"You seem to be making that statement based on a flawed premise, though, Dumbledore."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"That Harry's scar is a Horcrux. It isn't."

"But it must be."

"No. It isn't. Unlike you, we've actually had experts look at it, instead of making assumptions based on what you wished to be true. If anything it was a power leech that the Dark Lord might have been able to use to help power a ritual if he used Harry as its focus."

"What experts?"

"From the Department of Mysteries."

"You let the Ministry know about this?" he asked, shocked to the core.

"They already knew, but it was much better to have Harry examined, and the parasite removed, than to leave it there until you decided he had to sacrifice himself. I can't imagine the dire consequences if Harry had come to Hogwarts and still had that leech in place; how it might have reacted to Snape's Dark Mark, or to the presence of Voldemort possessing Professor Quirrell."

"That's not possible!"

"Of course it's possible. We simply took the problem to the appropriate expert," Monica told him.

"Your problem, Albus Dumbledore," she continued, "is that if you do not know or cannot do it yourself you assume that nobody is aware of it or capable of it, and that, whatever else happens, there is no way you could possibly be wrong. Well, I'll tell you right here and right now that you would have blown this completely if it wasn't for Sirius, myself and a few friends.

"Now, if that's all you wanted, I think we'll show ourselves out. Oh, and if we even hear rumours of you testing Harry or forcing him to interact with Quirrell, we'll be withdrawing him from Hogwarts immediately."

With that, Monica signalled to Sirius, who pocketed the box containing the Horcrux and swiftly headed out of the Hospital Wing.

As they walked out through the door, they saw Severus Snape approaching hurriedly. Despite his distaste for the man, Sirius greeted him.

"Snape," he said shortly. "I see Dumbledore's called you in as his last resort."

The potions master sneered at him.

"I'm led to believe that I might be able to help the Headmaster slow the effects of a withering curse," he said. "Time that might be vital in doing so cannot be wasted in exchanging worthless barbs with the like of you, Black. Please clear my way."

Sirius and Monica stepped to one side.

"Just so you know, Snape, Dumbledore got himself cursed disposing of the last of the Dark Lord's soul jars."

Snape stopped abruptly and turned back to him briefly and looked him in the eyes. He seemed to be satisfied with what he saw there.

"You are aware, I assume, of the spirit still possessing Quirrell?" he asked.

"Yes, and we've repeatedly warned Dumbledore about having the Dark Lord in the castle," Sirius replied. "Yet he is only a spirit, and completely susceptible to the vagaries of Quirrell's health; tied to his life force.

Snape considered the words from his childhood enemy, and nodded without saying anything more, turning back to the Infirmary door and pushing his way through.

"What was that about, Sirius?" Monica asked.

"Just, I think, a flash of inspiration," he replied.

DOHPDOHPDOHPDOHPDOHPDOHPDOHP

Sunday 6th October 1991 to Wednesday 9th October 1991

Hogwarts

The death of Albus Dumbledore washed across Wizarding Britain like a wave a profound sorrow, as the news slowly became common knowledge.

A combined statement from the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts staff extolled his many virtues and made it clear that he had died as he had lived, fighting the darkness, and had succumbed whilst destroying a dark artefact that might have lead to the reincarnation of a Dark Lord. No specific mention of Tom Riddle or Voldemort was made, though it was clear that this was whom it referred to if you read between the lines.

"He was so sure that Severus would be able to do something that would save him," Poppy Pomfrey said quietly to Rolanda Hooch as they watched his body being laid into the white marble bier that had been created for the long-serving Headmaster. "But it seemed that it was just one high hope too many. Severus took a long look at his arm, and was deep in quiet conversation with him for several minutes, but then came to me and told me there was nothing that he could do to save the Headmaster."

Hooch sniffed slightly. Like many of the staff she couldn't understand why Dumbledore had placed such great faith in the potions master.

After Dumbledore had been laid to rest, those present retreated to the Hogwarts Great Hall, where a feast was served. The house tables were crammed with additional guests from the Ministry and various other walks of life, as the many people who had been invited to show their respects joined the students in their dining hall.

The head table had been completely removed in order to make room for the House tables to be lengthened, otherwise there would never have been room to accommodate all the extra mouths to be fed, and the Hogwarts staff spread themselves around the room amongst the students.

Many of the adults quaffed large amounts of liquor during the afternoon to drown their sorrows, and it was little surprise to find, once the students had been excused to their dormitories with the news that classes had been cancelled for the next few days, that some of them overindulged and were found still in-situ, asleep or comatose when the House Elves came to clear everything up and start preparations for breakfast in the early hours of the morning.

Pre-occupied in their own misery, nobody saw the dark shadow that ejected from one of those present, a silent wail in its passing mistaken for somebody's grief.

Those unable to be awakened were moved to comfortable beds in the guest quarters (or in the case of the staff, their own quarters).

With the outpouring of bereavement, it was unsurprising that people remained unaccounted for until several days later. A staff meeting called by the Deputy Headmistress, who had been appointed by the Ministry on a temporary basis to fill the Headmaster's shoes until the end of the school year quickly identified that she was missing two members of staff.

"Has anyone seen either Severus or Quirinius?" McGonagall asked those gathered when it was nearly fifteen minutes after she had intended to begin her meeting. "I had expected everyone to be in a condition to be able to attend this morning, given that we had planned for classes to restart tomorrow."

There were shrugs and shakes of the head all around.

McGonagall grumbled to herself. She had been looking forward to giving both men a significant ear-bending and, especially, reminding Severus that she had lined up a replacement for him the first time he even put a toe out of line.

"Snippy!" the interim Headmistress called for one of the castle Elves, who appeared before her almost immediately.

"Yes, mistress?" the elf asked. "What can Snippy be doing for you?"

"Can you find Professors Snape and Quirrell for me, please, and let them know that they are expected to be here with the rest of us at this time?"

"Yes, mistress."

The elf disappeared with a pop, but was back merely seconds later.

"Professor Snape not be in the castle, mistress," she said. "And Professor Quirrell Snippy cannot wake."

McGonagall frowned. Severus had not mentioned that he had intended to leave the castle.

"Is Professor Quirrell in his quarters, Snippy?" she asked.

"Yes, mistress."

"Thank you, Snippy. You may go."

The elf disappeared again with a pop.

"It appears as though I shall have to deal with Severus and Quirinius later," she said with a sigh. "Poppy, please can you accompany me down to Professor Quirrell's quarters after we've finished here so that we can find out what's wrong with him?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded her agreement, and the meeting proceeded.

At its conclusion, McGonagall and Pomfrey made their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's quarters. The bedroom was closed up and the air rank. Quirrell was laid in his bed, in pyjamas and even paler than normal, but with his turban still wrapped around his head.

"He's dead, Minerva," Pomfrey told her, even before they had put the lights on. "I can smell it."

Several minutes of work later, Pomfrey sighed.

"He's been dead at least a couple of days," she confirmed. "Rigor mortis has already left the body. He's completely cold.

"I'd say he probably died before he was brought here, given the state of his clothing, which would likely mean he died in the Great Hall on Sunday."

"How did he die?" McGonagall asked, still partially in shock.

"If he were a Muggle, I would have said that it was heart failure, but that's extremely rare among wizards, Minerva, especially one so young as Quirinius. Something's not right, and you should call in experts from St Mungo's."

"And the DMLE? If it's suspicious?"

"Yes. The DMLE, too."

An hour later, Mediwitches had collected the body and taken it St Mungo's in the company of two Aurors. They agreed with Pomfrey's diagnosis that something was not right.

The next day saw the Headmistress hosting an Unspeakable in her office.

"What do you know of the possession that Professor Quirrell was inhabited by?" the man asked.

"Possession?"

"I'll take that as 'nothing'," he noted. "For your information, it has been established that Headmaster Dumbledore and others were aware that Quirinius Quirrell was hosting the spirit of the Dark Lord known as 'Voldemort' or 'Tom Riddle' underneath his turban."

"What?! Here in the school?!"

"Indeed."

"But, the children..."

"I'm glad that you, at least, understand the threat that this posed. It appears that the late Headmaster had a rather more cavalier approach to the risks associated with allowing the Dark Lord into the castle, even as a mere spirit."

"But... Albus... but..." McGonagall spluttered not sure whether to be shocked or enraged.

"Quite," the Unspeakable noted. "Now, you may also be aware that the Dark Lord had created soul jars, also known as Horcruxes, in order to try and tie his soul to this plane of existence whilst he searched for the means to obtain a new body."

McGonagall just shook her head, still in shock.

"Well, we can confirm that these have now also been dealt with. Therefore, no matter what Dumbledore might have asserted over the last decade or so, Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, really has gone for good."

"Well, I can't say that that's not a relief! I'm not quite sure what that has to do with the school though."

The man chuckled.

"Firstly, although you are currently in need of a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor... again... that particular problem may now be less of an issue than it has been. Voldemort's final departure appears to have ended the curse that he had placed upon the subject when he was rejected for the post himself.

"Secondly, it has become clear that Quirrell's death was not a natural one. As your own healer surmised. Whilst Quirrell did indeed succumb to heart failure, and in dying then expelled the spirit of the Dark Lord, it was brought on by poison that had been placed in his libation of choice on Sunday evening.

"Thus, there is something of a dilemma to consider – should we be pursuing someone as a murderer for causing Quirrell's death? Or should we be thanking them for dealing with the Dark Lord?"

"Poison?" McGonagall asked, her face paling at the prospect. "You mean here in the Great Hall? Whilst everyone was mourning Albus's death? Dear Merlin! Was anyone else affected?"

"It appears that such was the case, yes. And no, it doesn't appear that anyone else has turned up with the same problem – certainly there have been no other unexplained deaths of the same manner – therefore we have to assume that it was targetted specifically at Quirrell, and thus was premeditated murder."

"But who would have done such a thing?" she asked.

"There's one prime candidate, I'm afraid."

"Severus."

"Yes. Being the resident Potions Master would have meant he was our first person to question in any case – he would have had knowledge of the likely effects of such a poison, and even if he had answered our questions to satisfy us that he was innocent he would also have been able to assist with other aspects, such as whom else might have had access to the necessary ingredients, knowledge et cetera.

"As it is, his flight strongly implies guilt," the Unspeakable said with a shrug, "regardless of whether he had intended to be around for you to sack him some time over the next few weeks once you realised his behaviour wasn't going to change."

McGonagall looked dourly at him over the top of her spectacles.

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not," McGonagall replied. "The Hogwarts House-elves were unable to find him. He used to own a house at Spinner's End, near Cokeworth in Lancashire, but I am unaware if he still maintained it as a residence."

"We've already searched the property there," the Unspeakable said with a shake of the head. "It had been departed hurriedly. Nothing of any significance to our investigation remained."

"Then I'm not sure where else I could suggest you look. His closest confidante outside the castle would probably be Lucius Malfoy – Severus is Draco's Godfather."

"Then we'll raise the subject with him, too. Thank you for your time."