Neither Can Live. . .

Chris expected herself to wake up in the hospital wing in Hogwarts like she usually did. Especially when she heard Madam Pomfrey's angry voice.

"— no Headmaster, this is —"

"Please understand Madam Pomfrey, I need to talk to them, right now," said Dumbledore calmly.

"But they need rest and healing — they are injured," said Madam Pomfrey.

Chris slowly opened her eyes and as the blurry images came to focus she realized she wasn't in the Hospital Wing but in Dumbledore's office. She was sitting on a comfortable armchair, while Harry was sitting on the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were standing near the door.

Chris turned to Harry who was watching Dumbledore.

"What's going on?" mumbled Chris.

Harry jumped and looked at her. Relief flooded on his features.

"Chris!" his eyes brimmed with tears but he smiled. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"Yeah, I —"

Madam Pomfrey came hurrying to her, followed by Dumbledore.

"Let me see, boy," said Madam Pomfrey and stopped Harry from getting up from his chair.

When Madam Pomfrey checked her, Chris realized her cut waist and other injuries were almost gone but there was a sharp pain on her chest. Chris groaned in pain.

"Is your chest hurting, Christina?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Not much," lied Chris remembering the talk between Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey just now.

Madam Pomfrey pressed her lips together angrily.

"I expect them in the hospital wing after your talk, Headmaster," she said.

"Absolutely, Madam Pomfrey," said Dumbledore humbly.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey left the office.

Dumbledore took his seat behind the desk.

"What happened?" asked Chris quickly.

"You don't remember?" said Harry quietly.

"No, I mean yes, I do," said Chris. "I am asking about that thing back there —"

"Voldemort possessed Harry," said Dumbledore grimly. "He wanted me to kill Harry — he made him curse you."

"I am sorry," whispered Harry without looking at Chris.

Chris stared at Dumbledore as she recalled that feeling of being torn, she winced. "Oh!" That's all came out from her mouth. Then suddenly, Chris remembered.

"We are in your office, is that mean —"

"The Ministry had seen Malgino and Voldemort, they know what was going on," said Dumbledore. "We came back from the Ministry of Magic a half an hour ago. All of your friends are in the hospital wing but no one is going to suffer lasting damage from the night's events."

"Good," breathed Chris then instinctively looked over the perch beside the door and sighed seeing the tiny, ugly, featherless Fawkes there.

"Fawkes will be fine too," said Dumbledore. "Only the unfortunate is the Tonks family."

"Is Tonks okay?" asked Chris quickly.

"Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungo's, but it seems that she will make a full recovery. Whereas her parents —"

"We couldn't save them," said Harry.

"Neither did I," said Dumbledore.

There were a few minutes of silence. Dumbledore's words sink in and suddenly Harry's facial expressions changed to anger. Chris felt angry too but she controlled it.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't tell me that the thing — the prophecy is there? Why everyone left when we needed them the most?" Harry said coldly.

"I know, I owe you an explanation," said Dumbledore. "An explanation of an old man's mistakes. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young . . . and I seem to have forgotten lately . . ."

The sun was rising properly now. There was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colourless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his face.

"Yes, they planned it, they tried to win but that is my fault that I let them win," sighed Dumbledore. "When I could have prevented it. If only if I have told you two the truth from the beginning. If I was brave enough to prepare you for them. If I could —"

Dumbledore choked and looked so vulnerable that Chris remembered the day at Grimmauld Place when he told Chris about the Prophecy. Dumbledore who was a symbol of power, guidance and exception of everything was sad and pained. 

"How did you know we were there?" said Chris suddenly.

"Professor Snape was away for two hours because of an Order job. When he returned he understood something had happened and then he saw the situation in Dolores Umbridge's office," said Dumbledore. "And yes, Mr. Draco Malfoy informed him, when and who were looking for him that evening . Professor Snape quickly alerted certain Order members at once."

"Draco Malfoy?" said Chris and Harry together surprised.

"Yes, his family is suffering because of Voldemort and Malgino," said Dumbledore. "They are in a very vulnerable condition. I am planning to offer them help. I hope they take it."

"Theodore!" said Chris. "Theodore Nott."

"Yes?" said Dumbledore curiously.

"He needs help too, Professor," said Chris. "Voldemort and Malgino had made his house their headquarters. He is miserable, right now."

Anger flashed on Dumbledore's face.

"I will," he said. "No one is born evil, they are made during their life journey. But sometimes I forgot how to stop, how to do the right thing."

"Everyone does that," said Chris quietly. Three dead people came in front of her eyes.

"But now I have to confess," sighed Dumbledore staring at the window. "You should know everything I know. I can not — I have no right to keep you in dark."

Chris and Harry both watched Dumbledore without saying anything. Maybe now Chris will know something about her situation.

"Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well — not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years," said Dumbledore looked back at Harry. "You might ask — and with good reason — why it had to be so. Why could some Wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honored and delighted to raise you as a son. My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but myself realized. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters — and many of them are almost as terrible as he — were still at large, angry, desperate, and violent. And I had to make my decision too with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone forever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty, or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you.

"I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power.

"But I knew too where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated — to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."

"She doesn't love me," said Harry at once. "She doesn't give a damn —"

"But she took you," Dumbledore cut across him. "She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you.

"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."

"So that's why Sirius said, I can't live with him till I am in school?" Harry sat up straighter in his chair.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Five years ago, then," he continued. "you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.

"And then . . . well, you will remember the events of your first year at Hogwarts quite as clearly as I do. You rose magnificently to the challenge that faced you, and sooner — much sooner — than I had anticipated, you found yourself face-to-face with Voldemort. You survived again. You did more. You delayed his return to full power and strength. You fought a man's fight. I was . . . prouder of you than I can say."

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To be continued. . .