Chapter 75: Dumbledore’s Objective
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 75: Dumbledore's Objective
Harry waited for the pain.
He braced himself, his eyes squeezed shut, his body tensed for the agony that was surely coming.
Dumbledore's wand was pointed at him, and Harry knew what the old wizard was capable of. He had seen the chamber, the jars, the tools of torture. He knew the cruelty that lurked beneath the grandfatherly mask.
But the pain never came.
He opened his eyes, confused. Dumbledore was still standing over him, his wand raised, but his expression had shifted. He was looking at Harry with something that might have been amusement.
"You know," Dumbledore said, his voice almost conversational, "I could make you suffer unimaginable pain while keeping you alive for as long as I wanted. I could break you apart and put you back together until you eventually give me what I want. But why don't you save yourself all of that? Let me make you one offer. The last one I will give you. "
Harry glared up at him, his hatred burning like fire in his chest. "I don't want anything from you. You killed my family!"
He thrashed against his restraints, feeling them grow weaker with each movement. Just a little bit more and he would be free. His wand was only a few feet away...he had spotted it earlier, lying on the ground where it had fallen.
"Don't be so stupid, boy, and listen to me first." Dumbledore's tone was one of exasperation. "You are obviously too young and naive to really understand what awaits you if you make me truly angry."
Harry narrowed his eyes but stopped struggling. He needed to buy time.
The ropes were loosening, but he wasn't free yet. He needed to keep Dumbledore talking.
Dumbledore took his silence as a sign of compliance. "Good. Now... the grimoire that is currently in your possession...and yes, I know it is with you, so don't try to pretend otherwise. That spell that you used before, the "Verbero", was something that your grandfather invented while he was young. No one else knew it, but he must have recorded it inside the Potter Grimoire before passing away."
He paused, studying Harry's face. "Now... I have no interest in Fleamont Potter's useless spells. However...around 800 years ago, there was someone very special born into your family. His name was Barnaby Potter, but the peasants of the era knew him by another name...the Blood Demon due to the gruesome nature of his deeds."
Harry's eyes widened. "What?"
"Oh, did you think that everyone in your family was nice people?"
Dumbledore smiled, a cold, knowing smile. "I'm sure by now, you know what they called your father."
'The Grim Reaper.' Harry remembered that. How could he forget? His father had been Dumbledore's executioner, a man who had hunted and killed Muggle-borns with ruthless efficiency. The title had been earned through bloodshed.
But the rest of his family couldn't have been like that...could they?. Was the Potter family filled with killers and dark wizards?.
"Anyways, as I was saying...Barnaby Potter was the younger brother of Edmund Potter, who became the Lord of the house. This left poor Barnaby with nothing to inherit. So he became bitter and angry. Luckily for him, Barnaby had an unparalleled gift for magic, one that he got to explore in great depth. Particularly, he found immense affinity for the branch of blood magic."
Harry blinked. "Blood magic... that's the one that-"
"Yes, the one I use." Dumbledore gave him a knowing look. "You saw my lab in great detail, didn't you? The jars, the vials, the tools. What you didn't know is that I learned much of what I know from an old diary that I found during my youth. That diary was written by Barnaby himself."
Harry's mind raced. "You learned blood magic from one of my ancestors?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. That is usually how it goes. Legacies are meant to be passed onto the next generation, but I won't bore you with the eventual life and death of your dark ancestor." He waved a hand dismissively. "Barnaby lived a long and bloody life. He was feared and hated, but he was also brilliant. Unfortunately... the book I found was incomplete. There was one crucial spell missing. One that was only mentioned but not included. However, I know for a fact that the spell was added to the Potter Grimoire at some point. I don't know if it was added by Barnaby himself or by his older brother. But I know it's there because your father saw it one time."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "If you only want one spell from there, why didn't my father give it to you? He was loyal to you, wasn't he?"
"He was loyal indeed. More than you could ever imagine. Your mother as well..." Dumbledore said with a flicker of something like nostalgia crossing his face. "The grimoire was the initial reason for taking your father under my wing...I'll admit that. I saw potential in him, and I knew that if I could earn his trust, he might one day share its secrets with me. But he ended up becoming such a loyal soldier. He served me well, fought for me, killed for me. Unfortunately, the grimoire is an ancient magical artifact, and they sometimes develop a mind of its own. The Potter Grimoire chooses who to bond with, and your father was unfortunately not chosen."
Dumbledore paused to look at Harry. "But you were, my dear boy. Whatever qualities that book seeks in its user, you have them. So you can get me what I want. And what I want is the last piece of blood magic left behind by Barnaby Potter. The Elixir of True Immortality."
Harry stared at him. "An elixir of immortality? That's what you want?" He was shocked by the simplicity of his goal. This was the exact same thing that the original Dark Lord had also wanted.
Dumbledore scoffed. "Of course, it may not seem as valuable for such a young man. But you will grow old one day, and then you will start to understand." He looked down at his old hands, his expression shifting to something almost wistful. "No matter how powerful one becomes, time is always limited. Wizards of the past have found many ways to extend one's life, but those methods are all flawed. They all have limitations or severe drawbacks. The Philosopher's Stone, for example...it can create the Elixir of Life, but it is dependent on the stone itself. Destroy the stone, and the elixir is gone, not to mention that the effects of that elixir diminish over time. Horcruxes can anchor a soul to the mortal world, but they require you to fragment your own soul, leaving the user a hollow shell of their former self. I have seen what happens to those who rely on such crude methods. Also, the containers can be located and destroyed...that is a glaring weakness that I wish to avoid."
He paused, his eyes gleaming with cold ambition. "However, I believe that with his gift for blood magic, Barnaby Potter found the one true method of gaining eternal youth. A potion that would grant true immortality...not just extended life, but eternal youth, eternal vitality, eternal power. And the secret..." He pointed at Harry's chest. "Is somewhere in there."
Harry's blood ran cold. "So that's what you want... that's why you went out of your way to avoid killing me."
"Precisely." Dumbledore's voice was smooth, almost gentle. "You are the key to everything I have worked for. I have spent decades searching for a way to cheat death, to transcend the limitations of mortality. Your ancestor discovered it, and your family has kept it hidden for centuries. But now, the grimoire has chosen you. You are the one who can unlock its secrets."
Harry shook his head slowly. "You killed my parents to get to me. You killed the Dursleys. You erased my memories. You've done all of this just to get your hands on a spell that might not even exist."
"It exists," Dumbledore said firmly. "I have seen fragments of it in Barnaby's diary. I have pieced together enough to know that it is real. What I lack is the final piece...the complete formula, the correct sequence of rituals. And that is where you come in."
He crouched down, bringing his face level with Harry's. His blue eyes were cold, empty of any warmth.
"I don't have to be your enemy, Harry. Think about it. That potion will require materials and skills that you may never gain in your lifetime. The ingredients alone would take decades to gather...the rituals would require centuries of practice to master. But if you help me out, I am willing to share it with you. I have full control of this country. At my side, you could have a long and fulfilling life. As my ally, you could be great."
He extended his hand, as if offering a deal.
"That is my offer. Take the place your father left, and become my loyal soldier. That's what I always wanted for you. It's too bad that you made things so difficult, but it's not too late. We could be best friends, my boy. Or we can be enemies... It's up to you."
Harry was quiet for a long moment.
Then he started laughing.
Dumbledore's expression shifted to anger. "What's so funny?"
"You talk like a cartoon villain," Harry spat. "Who would be stupid enough to give a monster like you eternal life? Even if I were to believe your words, which I don't... you've done nothing but lie to me, manipulate me, and kill everyone I've ever loved. You think I would ever help you? You think I would ever trust you?"
Dumbledore's face hardened. "I had hoped you would be reasonable. But I see that you are as stubborn as your grandfather."
"What do you even know about my grandfather?" Harry snarled.
He felt the ropes loosen further. Just a little more...
Dumbledore grinned. "I thought you would have pieced it together by now, Harry. I am the one who killed you, grandfather."
Harry flinched. "You..."
Dumbledore shrugged. "I had hoped that by removing him, the grimoire would pass to your father, but...well, that didn't work out."
"I'm going to kill you!" Harry shouted.
"I would like to see you try...boy." Dumbledore played with the wand in his hand and sighed. "If you were not so valuable, I would have killed you long ago," the Headmaster said coldly. "But you are the only one who can access the grimoire. I need you alive...for now. Unfortunately, those friends of yours are going to be so lucky...at this point, they are probably already-"
At that moment, Harry broke free from his restraints. He lunged for his wand, grabbed it, and pointed it at Dumbledore.
"Go to Hell!"
He blasted the old wizard with all his pent-up anger, producing the most powerful "Verbero" cast of his life.
The concussive force slammed into Dumbledore, who managed to throw up a hasty shield. But the impact still pushed him back, his feet skidding across the stone platform. Harry didn't wait to see the result.
He turned and ran towards the stairs, hoping they would lead him out of this nightmare.
But he had only reached the first step when he felt his body freeze.
"You..." Dumbledore's voice was cold, filled with fury. "You are going to pay for that."
Harry was paralyzed. His body refused to move an inch. He could feel Dumbledore's presence behind him, floating in the air. The old wizard's power pressed down on him like a weight, suffocating him.
Dumbledore raised his wand. "Cruci—"
And then, from somewhere above, Harry heard a loud explosion.
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