The Aftermath

The elderly man sighed. "Professor Quirrell did not manage to take the Stone from you, if that is what you are asking. Had he have managed to escape, I would have been there to stop him, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"I heard you were in London."

"Indeed, indeed. But no sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you. I admit, I feared I had been too late."

"But you did manage to get the Stone."

"Oh, not the Stone, dear boy, you – your effort nearly killed you -"

Harry paled. Tom would have something to say about that later.

"- for one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Harry repeated. "After all that? What about Mr. Flamel?"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat and agreed it's all for the best."

"But he'll die then, right?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Indeed my boy, indeed. But you shouldn't worry for him; I assure you that to Nicolas and his wife Perenelle, death really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."

Harry smiled a bit. "You really think so, sir?"

Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled a bit. "Oh, I know so, Harry."

"But how would you know something like that?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, it's one of those things one you learn over the years..." the man said mysteriously.

"But Lord Voldemort didn't learn it, did he sir?"

"Indeed, my boy, indeed he did not."

"He's still alive, then?"

"Yes, that is correct, Harry. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share...as he is not truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time – and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry wanted to laugh, at that. If Voldemort 1.0 was anything like Voldemort 2.0, he wouldn't give up so easily. Somehow, he thought Professor Dumbledore would agree with this statement.

"I'm curious sir, why couldn't Professor Quirrell touch me?"

"Well Harry, how about this – I will answer your question, if you answer for me one of my own."

Harry nodded. "That seems fair. I've asked a lot of questions already. You want to know why I was down there in the first place, don't you sir?"

"Ah, Harry, you are just as intelligent as your professors say, it would seem. Indeed, I would like to know why it was that you followed Professor Quirrell to seek out the Stone. I dare say, being the intelligent young man you are, it would have occurred to you to approach one of your professors for help."

Harry nodded slowly. This was it. He needed to be very careful now. "You see sir...I didn't go there to stop Professor Quirrell from stealing the Stone. I knew he was going to steal it, of course -"

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore said, amused.

"So I'd been watching the third floor corridor every night, under my invisibility cloak. So when I saw him...I followed him."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "And may I ask to what end?"

Harry hesitated. "I knew he was working for Lord Voldemort, sir, I figured that out after I started getting headaches in his class, what with the dark magic most likely acting up and all...and I was hoping that he might be able to tell me why...why Voldemort killed my parents. I've been wondering about it for a while now, sir."

That was plausible, right?

The old man nodded, seeming to buy Harry's story. "I see, I see. But you are aware, I'm sure, of the old words of wisdom, 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

Harry smiled sadly. "I am sir. But satisfaction brought it back, and...I think that there are things worth being curious about. Besides, death is just the next great adventure, right, sir?"

"Wise words, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, with humour.

"Which reminds me sir, about my question for you."

"Ah, well, Harry, your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realise that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... but to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection for ever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Harry frowned a bit. Professor Dumbledore seemed to be telling him the truth, but there was clearly more to it than that. He said as much.

"Indeed, my boy, there is. Magic, as I'm sure you're aware, is a truly wondrous thing. Magic is everywhere – in the world around us, and in the world inside us, as well. The most powerful of magics are those that make us human, like love, Harry."

"Then love is actually magic, sir?"

"In a way, Harry, in a way."

"I don't understand how that works."

"No one does, I think."

"Sir, you're evading my questions."

The man laughed, at that. But it wasn't mocking, it was warm and cheerful. "I see nothing gets past you, Harry."

"Well sir, I do have rather quick reflexes."

The old man laughed an even brighter laugh this time. "Indeed, indeed! I will be straight with you, then. The magic of love is complex and mysterious, and is deeply entwined with the magic of the soul – a very advanced, very dangerous form of magic, that few are aware of, and even fewer practice. And with good reason – when it comes to the magic of the soul, the line between light and dark grows very thin, and it is easy to lose sight of what you want and who you are, when delving into such magics. So I urge you, Harry, not to go searching this magic out."

"But sir, what if I really, really, want to know about it? What if I want to know how my mother saved me?"

Professor Dumbledore looked him in the eye, a sad smile on his face. "Then I ask that you wait, until you are bit older, and a bit wiser. It is easy to lose your way, when you are young, but age has a way of grounding us in reality, for better or for worse."

"That seems fair, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it! Now, do you have any other questions, Harry?"

....

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