Ch 22 The King of Snakes Part 1

The view from the Headmaster's office always seemed to soothe Dumbledore's soul. As he stood before the window, gazing out at the sprawling Hogwarts grounds, he was reminded of why he had chosen this job. The sight of students lounging by the Black Lake and playing on the Quidditch field warmed his heart.

There seemed to be an unusual number of Students taking a break and basking in the warm sun that day. Some were with their classmates while others were with their housemates, but the one thing he was very gratified to see was that they also mingled with the foreign schools which had been the purpose of this tournament from the start.

*Sigh*

The thought of the tournament bought with it all of its unpleasantness. Dumbledore had been against its inception from the start but alas he hadn't considered the pressure from the overeager Minister who wanted nothing more than a distraction so that people don't look too deep into his Ministry's recent failings.

In the end, he had been tempted by the thought that it would be a good opportunity to feel out some of these foreign Magicals who could become possible allies in the future before Voldemort came back whenever he inevitably did. He knew about the dream Harry had at the beginning of the summer and had also heard some very concerning rumours, which meant that Harry needed to be prepared one way or... another.

When Harry had first entered Hogwarts, Dumbledore had been expecting a prodigy, like Tom Riddle had been at eleven or like Grindelwald and he himself had been (if he stops being humble for a second,). People that show exceptional signs of intelligence and desire for power from a very young and have an innate feeling of superiority over their peers, making them lonely and isolated.

But when he saw Harry during his first year, Dumbledore found him to be exceptionally... Normal. He didn't have the best grades nor was he the best at performing magic and he had friends who he was happy to spend time with, to play chess with or play quidditch, instead of going to the library to research and learn powerful magic to have an upper hand over his fellow magical.

He lacked the innate drive to constantly improve and outperform his peers that "they" all had and was happy to spend time skiving off of work to mess around in Hagrid's cabin.

So while he had been immensely relieved that he wasn't anything like Riddle or Grindelwald, he had also been disappointed that he didn't have any qualities that would be able to help him fulfil the prophecy... except for his fearlessness (his eyes flicked to the glittering sword placed in the glass panel,) and his need to save people.

So he had to scrap off any plans he had created to train him, to provide him with all the assistance he could for him to face off against Riddle in a magical duel eventually. Instead, he had to explore alternative methods, even if they seemed morally questionable.

However, after witnessing Harry's incredible display of magic during the Dragon challenge, surpassing even some of the most skilled wizards Dumbledore knew, he began to question whether he had prematurely dismissed Harry's magical abilities.

As he was contemplating the mistakes he made, he suddenly turned around to the empty room as if someone had called him. Addressing the door, he said, "Come in, Harry."

Almost immediately, the door swung open, revealing Harry standing there, his hand still raised as if he had been about to knock. He gathered himself admiringly quickly and greeted with a nervous smile befitting a student, "Professor Dumbledore."

"Please, have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing toward the comfortable armchair. Taking his own place behind his claw-footed desk, he continued, "I apologize for summoning you on such a beautiful afternoon when you likely had plans to enjoy with your friends."

As Dumbledore observed Harry up close, he couldn't help but be amazed by the noticeable changes the boy had undergone in just a few months. He seemed to have picked up training his body making him fill up which had been helped by his puberty-enhanced height giving him the look that bought him even more than the usual attention from the Hogwarts populace.

"Nothing like that, Professor," Harry replied, settling into the seat offered to him, "Hermione was just going to help me catch up with the lessons I missed because of the tournament,"

"Ah—I do apologize for that, Harry," Dumbledore said remorsefully, "It was under my prerogative that I make sure no underage wizard was selected by the Goblet of Fire, but in my arrogance, I didn't think that anyone would be able to overpower the age line...But I was proven wrong," He shook his head with a wry smile.

"I knew that when Peter escaped last year, there was a chance that I would have to go through something like this so I was already somewhat prepared," Harry said a bit uncomfortable with getting an apology from his professor even though a small part of him felt that he kind of deserved an apology for putting up with things like this ever year but the other part of him knew that it came with the pack and parcel of being 'Harry Potter,' so he said graciously, "So I am sure you did your what you could, Professor and as long it wasn't your intention to place me in the tournament, I don't think it your fault,"

"Thank you for saying that, you have a very big heart," Dumbledore bowed with a warm smile before he suddenly said, "Ah—How rude of me," He said before picking up a teapot, "Would you like some tea, Harry,"

"Thank you, Professor," Harry nodded appreciatively, accepting the cup offered to him. As he took a sip, he was immediately amazed at the taste as he had never had such a delicious tea before, "It's really good, Professor,"

"It's a personal blend of Minerva's that I enjoy pilfering from time to time," Dumbledore confessed with a mischievous wink. "But please, let's keep it between us. She's already quite cross with me for her Gryffindor being thrust into this tournament."

Harry grinned, savouring the opportunity to share tea and conversation with a man he considered to be like a grandfather.

"Harry, one thing I must say I was mightily impressed by was the spell you performed against the Dragon," Dumbledore said with genuine appreciation and before Harry could say something to refute it, he continued, "Yes, I am aware that the genius behind the spell was Hermione, who, if I'm not mistaken, has also become your girlfriend. Congratulations on that, Harry,"

"You know about that?" Harry squeaked, his face flushing with embarrassment.

"Now, I say this to you in confidence," Dumbledore said leaning forward a bit, "The one thing a teacher loves more than anything is gossiping about his/her students... apart from teaching, of course," Harry couldn't help but snort at the mental image of Severus and Hagrid engaging in schoolgirl-like gossip in the teachers' room.

Dumbledore smiled at this before he continued, "As I was saying, Hermione's genius doesn't take away from your accomplishment at all... so you can be proud of it as I am sure all your friends and teachers, including myself, are,"

"I don't think I did something that was amazing or anything," Harry humbly replied, rubbing the back of his head, "I guess...I just wanted to impress Hermione and I had seen how much work she had put into that spell for me and I just didn't want to let her down," He finished with a smile, his eyes shining with adoration and warmth.

"That is an admirable reason, Harry," Dumbledore responded, his voice filled with genuine respect, "I also have your teachers singing your praises that even though you are not required to attend classes, your work has never been better. Furthermore, they have mentioned that you are among the first to successfully cast new and advanced spells,"

"I'm not sure if there's a specific reason for it, Professor but..." Harry shrugged, "Magic comes a lot easier to me nowadays. It's as if whenever I am happy I feel this overwhelming sensation as if my chest is filled to the brim... a-and my magic responds to my every command completely as if it is happy to do so...it's as if my magic is singing or something like that,"

Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise upon hearing Harry's explanation... because if he wasn't wrong then it would mean that he had been mistaken from the start. It wasn't that Harry had no talent for magic, it's just that his talent had lain dormant and was a lot different from "theirs".

The feeling Harry described could only be attained by a witch or wizard after extensive training and mastering their magic, reaching a state where their magic obediently and unconditionally responds to their will. Somehow, Harry stood on the precipice of achieving that level of power.

Dumbledore had always considered himself a staunch advocate of the "Power of Love" and the potent magic it possessed, yet he realized he had been somewhat blinded to it.

On that Halloween night all those years ago he had seen the mighty strength Love had first-hand. He found out that day that it wasn't all-powerful dark magic, the versatility of transfiguration, or so-called light magic that had defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard alive but instead, it was the pure love Lily had for her child that led to his downfall.

Therefore, Dumbledore had believed that it would be the power of love that would ultimately triumph again when Voldemort resurfaced. However, in his pursuit of the bigger picture, he had become narrow-minded. He had mistakenly equated the Power of Sacrifice with Love.

Fortunately, it wasn't too late to rectify his understanding. If he applied himself fully, perhaps he could still salvage the situation.

'It's time to change some of his plans and bring some things forward,' Dumbledore thought, his mind racing at lightning speed, considering various ideas, discarding convoluted plans, and formulating new ones.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, sitting up with renewed purpose. "How would you like to receive some extra lessons?"

While the resolution of this predicament ultimately hinged on Sirius finding a solution to Harry's connection with the Horcrux, it didn't mean that they couldn't make preparations in advance.

Dumbledore hadn't felt this exhilarated about the future in a long time. He had always believed that he would meet his demise while sacrificing himself, one way or another. However, now he felt a newfound determination to fight, to fight until the very end and witness the birth of a better world.

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