Chapter 103: Advancing by Retreating? Then Let Death Serve as Atonement, Dumbledore

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The table, once filled with dishes, was now completely cleared, with Harry having briefly recounted the events of how he rid himself of the remnants of Voldemort's soul within him. He focused on the magic his mother, Lily, had left behind, emphasizing the role it played in the process.

However, when Harry mentioned that his mother was an "Awakened One," he noticed a flash of surprise that neither of the two elderly wizards could hide. Dumbledore even looked a little stunned, and in his expression, Harry saw a hint of regret—a rare crack in the composure of these two seasoned wizards upon hearing the term "Awakened One."

The silence in the room stretched on for a moment before Harry's question finally broke the stillness.

"Several months ago, a Thestral took me to some ruins," Harry began. "There, I could feel residual traces of magic, memories left behind by a powerful spell. In those traces, I saw a boy, about fifteen or sixteen years old, a Hogwarts student wearing the Hufflepuff crest. I saw him single-handedly surround a marketplace controlled by poachers, killing at least three to five hundred wizards."

"I was curious, so I asked the centaurs for information and did my own research. But I found no record of him in any historical books. The centaurs only vaguely told me it happened in the late 19th century."

"He was an Awakened One, like my mother. But to reach such terrifying power and defeat hundreds of poacher wizards at such a young age—his strength was beyond anything I could imagine."

"Professor Dumbledore, you attended Hogwarts in the late 19th century, right? Can you shed any light on this?"

"Here—"

Harry pointed to a nearby pile of rubble stained with a deep crimson. The black stones were the remains of a dragon-shaped fossil statue.

"Here, I can feel two entirely different magical energies. One of them matches the energy I sensed in the Forbidden Forest ruins—it belongs to that Hufflepuff elder. He must have fought another Awakened One here, right? I'm very curious about him."

Harry's gaze bore directly into Dumbledore's, while the elderly wizard, his half-moon spectacles glinting, seemed momentarily lost in thought. It was an unusual expression, one that he rarely showed in front of others, as if he was deliberating over something deeply troubling.

After a long silence, Dumbledore's lips moved slightly. In a voice hoarse with emotion, he finally spoke.

"I owe you an apology, Harry. And I owe one to your parents as well. Part of the reason for their deaths lies with me."

This unexpected response caused the other two wizards present to furrow their brows slightly. Grindelwald's eyes showed a hint of concern, but as he quickly understood Dumbledore's meaning, he let out a quiet sigh, choosing instead to sit silently and listen.

"What do you mean, Professor?"

Harry asked, puzzled, struggling to grasp what Dumbledore was hinting at.

"I once spent a long time seeking the fabled Deathly Hallows. Although most wizards in the magical world believe the tale to be a mere children's story, I came to a different conclusion. I am certain that the story of Death and the Three Brothers contains a kernel of truth. For instance, the three Deathly Hallows are indeed real."

"They are the Elder Wand, with unmatched power; the Cloak of Invisibility, a gift from Death; and the Resurrection Stone, which reverses the barrier between life and death."

"It is said that the one who unites all three Hallows would have the power to defeat Death itself. At one point, I was obsessed with this idea."

"I couldn't bear to see only my own reflection in the Mirror of Erised, and I thought I could use the power of the Hallows to accomplish certain... things."

Grindelwald shifted uneasily in his seat, his posture becoming more rigid as he sat back, eyes slightly downcast.

"I obtained the Elder Wand."

An ivory-white IMI Desert Eagle was placed on the table by Dumbledore. Unlike any other wand, this Desert Eagle shimmered with seven subtle, colorful lights that flowed along its barrel, imbuing it with an alluring mystery. Harry suddenly felt an inexplicable desire to pick it up, even to claim it as his own.

Dumbledore's fingers gently brushed over the peculiar handgun, causing it to transform rapidly, eventually becoming an unremarkable twig. Its rough bark showed no signs of being polished, as if it were merely a broken branch carelessly snapped off from a tree.

"Your father possessed the Cloak of Invisibility, the very one you received on Christmas Day. It can shield against all magical detection—be it prophecy or spells—anything related to magic is concealed beneath its cover."

"Your father used this cloak to accomplish many difficult tasks for the Order of the Phoenix, which is how I became aware of its existence. One day, I asked him to lend it to me for research, and he gladly agreed."

"If I hadn't borrowed your father's cloak, perhaps…" Dumbledore paused, "perhaps the tragedy of that time would never have occurred."

"Had they donned that cloak, even if someone had betrayed them or if Tom had come knocking, they could have left calmly instead of rushing to confront him, and ultimately…"

Dumbledore let out a long sigh. "It was my selfishness that led things to this worst outcome."

"I know that apologizing now is futile, but I feel I should do something for you, whether it's a belated compensation or an act of atonement. I will do whatever I can."

Dumbledore leaned forward, his words of 'atonement' stripping him bare of pretense, as he recounted the events of the past with complete honesty. He sat not in a comfortable armchair but in what felt like an interrogation seat marked with the words, "Confess for leniency, resist for severity."

Did he make a mistake? Yes, the existence of the Cloak was indeed a significant safeguard. If James and Lily had possessed such a powerful item of concealment, they would have had many options when Voldemort burst in. If the cloak had bought them just a few critical seconds, the outcome might have been different.

But would the outcome have truly changed with the cloak? Not necessarily. They had placed their faith in the power of the Fidelius Charm, their long-held vigilance relaxed as they prepared for bed that night. Lily was soothing Harry, and neither of them had their wands in hand. Voldemort was anything but slow; he stormed through the door and into their room in less than two seconds. If it hadn't been so sudden, James would have had time to grab his wand and rush out to shield his family from the Killing Curse.

Had Voldemort not launched his attack so unexpectedly and swiftly, even empty-handed, they could have used Disapparation to escape. At the very least, Lily could have ignored the anti-Disapparation wards, but Voldemort granted them no such time. The scene Harry saw in his dreams was one of the door bursting open with a loud bang, and James, just rising to defend them, being struck by a flash of green light. At that moment, Lily had only time to call her husband's name before another curse struck.

Voldemort, well-versed in lightning-fast ambushes, had left them no chance to react. For Lily to leave Harry a protective enchantment in that chaos was already remarkable.

In that moment, Harry wanted to scream at Dumbledore—not for what he had done in the past, but for the fact that he was still playing games with him now! After that encounter with Lily, Harry had indeed come to acknowledge her as his mother. The pure, unconditional love she had given him was something he had once longed for but could never attain.

After a moment of silence, with everything clear in his mind, Harry looked up at Dumbledore and spoke coolly.

"Then let death serve as atonement. As for your apology, you can go down and say it directly to my mother."

You want to advance by retreating? Fine, I'll indulge you; I excel at giving an inch and taking a mile.

"If you can't do that…"

Harry drew the ebony wood, the cold muzzle aimed directly at Dumbledore's forehead.

"I can help you."

A torrent of darkness surged within him, the chaotic, malevolent essence manifesting itself with full clarity at that moment.

(End of Chapter)