Harry Potter and the Perversion of Purity
Year 2: The Erosion of Innocence
Chapter 28: The Telling of Secrets
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Harry Potter and the Perversion of Purity
Book 2: The Erosion of Innocence
Chapter 28: The Telling of Secrets
May 16, 1993
The Chamber of Secrets
Harry’s mind was still weighed down by the haze of confusion and pain that clung to him like malicious drops of sweat. His chest rose and fell with great difficulty. Every breath he took sounded every bit as hoarse and rasping as Carrow’s from earlier in the evening. Lifting his head seemed next to impossible. It was like somebody had draped a chain around Harry’s neck with a boulder on the end in place of a pendant. Everything was on fire. Every time he tried to move, his entire body shook and spasmed. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. When the first spell had been lifted, all it had left behind was a heavy sense of exhaustion. This left traces far harder to cope with in its wake and Harry wondered if he would even be able to stand.
Something made a sound from near Harry’s right hand. It took a titanic effort for him to tilt his head and look. It was Fawkes. Where a great phoenix had perched upon his shoulder, a small, featherless bird now nudged something towards Harry’s palm. It was his wand; he must have dropped it while under the effects of Riddle’s final spell.
“Thanks, Fawkes,” Harry mumbled, just barely managing to close his fingers around the holly wand. Just holding it sent a surge of warmth and energy through his body. It was far from enough to clamber to his feet, but he did finally manage to lift his head and survey the room around him.
It was complete and total bedlam.
Several of the pillars had broken apart, their rocky contents strewn all about the floor. Harry was sure the ceiling would have collapsed on all of them had some form of magic not held it up. Something massive lay upon the floor near Slytherin’s feet. Its head was pressed against the floor, but Harry didn’t need to see it to realize it was the basilisk. Nothing else in this room could be so hulking. He wondered how his companions had killed it, for it must be dead to lay so still and quiet.
The snake was not the only thing gathered around the statue of the Hogwarts founder.
All in the room but Harry seemed to be there. There was Carrow not far away, the snake, curled and shrunken by death, and Draco kneeling over Diana, who laid face up in a bed of blood.
That made Harry’s heart stop. Had something happened to Diana? Had she been hurt during the battle? Was she… no, she had to be alive! That was a thought Harry wouldn’t even think.
Then, he saw Ron Weasley and suddenly, he understood.
The boy was knelt over a blonde much like Draco, but his eyes were on Luna Lovegood and not the Malfoy Heiress. Harry knew why as soon as his eyes found them.
Harry couldn’t see the girl well from his vantage point with Weasley in the way, but he could see the streaks of blood coiling out from the girl like an opening fist of crimson. The smell hung thick and heavy in the air. Harry was surprised he hadn’t noticed before, but he supposed he had been preoccupied by exhaustion and agony.
Harry tried to blink the black spots from his eyes, but his vision only swam with more of them the harder he tried. The room began to move all around him. The flaming torches were suddenly an orange blur that was spinning around him faster and faster until he wondered if his vision was just tinged orange because it seemed to be everywhere. He could feel his body shaking once more and thought the floor seemed colder somehow as exhaustion tugged harder than ever at his weary eyelids.
The last thing Harry wondered before succumbing to the pull of unconsciousness was how Ron Weasley had gotten his hands on a sword and how it had ended up in the chest of a sleeping girl.
Some time later…
The dream began in the body of another, though Harry would not come to realize that until some time later.
He was in the same dark drawing room in which he’d held court during the last meeting of the few followers he had left.
“You have something urgent to report, Lucius?” His voice was almost human now. Only the hint of a rasping hiss not quite fit for a man lingered. It was a good sign. It meant that things were moving along at an appropriate pace and that his shell would be ready to shed itself once the pieces were in order to truly make him human once more.
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Then report,” Harry said in that high, cold voice of his.
“The plan was successful, My Lord. The distraction was successful and our target was taken care of.”
There was such odd trepidation about the man and he was nervous. Harry would not have expected such reluctance to speak from a man who appeared to be delivering such glowing news.
“What else, Lucius?”
“I said what else? You are nervous. What is it you fear telling me?”
Harry could see the way the man chewed his lip. It would be very unpleasant news indeed. “We… lost communication soon after the job had been done, My Lord.”
Harry could feel anger and worry flash behind his eyes, but he quelled them both just as fast as they had come. “And what of the book?” he asked.
“I don’t know, My Lord.”
“You will find out. You will go to the castle and you will learn of what has happened. You will do this immediately.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
Lucius stood from the table and swept towards the room’s exit. Harry could feel how relieved he was to be free of him for now. His anger must have leaked through, for the others in the room appeared just as worried.
“Leave me,” said Harry, “I require time alone.”
They all fled and were gone in an instant, all but the tall woman with blonde hair and blue eyes who had been his keeper over these months. She looked much like her daughter. It was easy for Harry to imagine Diana when looking at her… so easy that the dream changed.
Harry felt different now. He was taller, for one thing, and his mind felt more… familiar. He must have woken — he was back in the Chamber of Secrets. Dust still rose from the places the pillars had collapsed, mixing its smell with that of blood and the already rotting corpse of the basilisk.
What was odd was that Weasley and Draco seemed to have left him. He was all alone kneeling over Diana. A jagged fang stuck in her chest and Harry pulled feebly trying to free it from her. His hands still shook from the exhaustion and every muscle burned with the effort it took to pull upon the sword. All he was doing was painting the floor around her a deep crimson. Her eyes were open in the dream like they had not been in life and there was pain and anguish within them. Pain and anguish that made the curse Harry had suffered earlier that night look like little more than a Tickling Charm.
Harry realized it would be no good and allowed numb fingers to relinquish their grip upon the fang. He slumped beside Diana as tears stung the corners of his eyes. He reached out for her hand and took it. It was not yet cold but her feeble grip betrayed how little time she had left.
“No,” Harry begged. “Diana, please! You’re going to be okay, just stay with me!”
Blood trickled from Diana’s mouth when she tried to speak. She coughed and spluttered just as the light behind her eyes went out, leaving Harry to stare agonizingly at his own reflection… or the reflection that should have been his.
His cheekbones were higher than they ought to have been and his eyes were a deep, pupilless scarlet instead of a bright and vivid green. The reflection opened his mouth and from his mouth too trickled a thin stream of blood, but a voice followed it. Not Harry’s voice; it was colder yet smoother and it sent shivers up his spine.
We’re similar, you know. Both halfbloods, both orphans raised by muggles unfit to lick the hems of our robes. We were both sorted into Slytherin House and quickly became prodigies in our own right. We’re probably the only two Parselmouths who have come through this school since the great Salazar Slytherin himself and we even look somewhat alike.”
This time, Harry was sure he had awoken. There was no Diana, no dark room he had never visited in life, and no haunting imagery that tore his heart to shreds. There was nothing but the soft bed beneath him, the warm covers atop of him, and aching pain that came from everywhere.
Harry heard a sigh from beside his bed and looked over. It was jarring to see Draco’s father there so soon after he had seen him in his dream. Harry knew what it meant by now, but how was it Lucius had gotten here so fast? Had that much time truly passed?
“Good gracious, you’re awake,” the man said. “Thank Merlin for that. You must stop scaring us like this, Harry.”
Harry could see the man looked stressed even in his current state. There was a weariness behind his eyes that usually chose other places to dwell. His hair was as immaculate as ever, but there was a slight flush in his cheeks.
“Sorry, sir,” said Harry. “I don’t exactly like ending up here either.”
“No,” said Lord Malfoy, “I suppose you don’t.”
“What time is it, sir? How long have I been out this time?”
“Not terribly long compared to the last. It’s almost 5:00, you’ve hardly been asleep three hours.”
That explained why Harry still felt exhausted and why his muscles felt so heavy. Or perhaps the latter was still part of whatever effects lingered from the curse he had been hit with.
“Did Madam Pomfrey diagnose anything?” Harry asked carefully.
“She looked you over, but it was the Headmaster who passed the diagnosis.”
Harry almost asked after Dumbledore before remembering the man meant Snape. “And what did he think?”
“He thought nothing; it was obvious that you had been tortured.”
That lined up, yes. A torture curse was an apt description of whatever Riddle had used. “Can you tell me what spell I got hit with?” Harry asked in a quieter voice. “I’d never seen it before.”
“I would certainly hope not.” There was a sharpness in Lord Malfoy’s words that Harry had never heard before. Harry did his best to look hopeful and the man sighed, casting his eyes about the hospital wing to make sure they were alone. “The Cruciatus Curse,” he said after a moment. “It’s a torture curse so heinous that the use of it on any fellow human being means a one-way trip to Azkaban with no hope of ever being released.”
“What about the curse before that?” Harry questioned. “Did Madam Pomfrey find anything from it?” The man shook his head. “It was… different,” Harry explained. “It felt like I was far away and like nothing could go wrong. The voice… I wanted to listen. It was—“
“Merlin’s beard, boy,” hissed Lord Malfoy. “Who in the hell was using Unforgivable Curses so liberally?”
Unforgivable Curses was a phrase Harry had never heard before, but it gave him something to work with — something to research since Lord Malfoy seemed hesitant to speak of them. He supposed they must be some sort of list of spells that were punished in a similar fashion to this Cruciatus Curse.
“No one to worry about.” His words were ominous and he knew that Draco’s father would misunderstand him, but they were the only words he could force himself to speak.
“Harry,” the man said, leaning closer, “if you tell me, I will be sure this man never steps foot outside of Azkaban Prison ever again. I can—“
“Why are you so eager to help me while you’re working for him?”
The words had escaped him in a tumble of pent up fury and confusion. Months of stress and worry had culminated all at once now that Harry’s worst fears had been confirmed.
Lucius went as still as a statue, but Harry pressed on. “Why would you help the—“
“Silence!” hissed Malfoy, sliding his wand from his sleeve. Harry thought the man would curse him for a moment, but he only cast some sort of privacy spell around the room before hiding his wand once more and glaring at Harry for the first time the boy could remember. “Have you no sense? Never speak of such things in places like this!”
“I want an answer,” said Harry, his eyes burning like green fire. “Why would you help me when you’re working for Voldemort—“
“Don’t speak his name!” Lord Malfoy snarled. Harry could see it had unnerved him, but he didn’t care. This had been building and building for months.
“The Malfoys might view you as a tool, but that doesn’t mean all of us do.”
“Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself,” Harry spat. “Your master doesn’t scare me.”
“You understand nothing,” said Lucius. “You know nothing of what he was like and what he made—“
“I know you supported him willingly — and you still do.”
“The Dark Lord is—“
“Alive and getting stronger. You’ve met with him. You’re here at Hogwarts for him. He wanted you to check on something — some kind of loss of communication.”
The widening of Malfoy’s eyes showed Harry at once that he was right and the dreams really were visions into Voldemort’s mind.
“I see that you cannot be reasoned with in your current state of mind,” the man said as he stood to his feet with a slightly shaky stance. “I will leave you with two things, Harry. The first is that I have officially won the case to transfer guardianship of you from those vile creatures to Lord Black.”
Harry’s heart soared. Anything was better than returning to the Dursleys. Even if Regulus was a Death Eater like Lucius… well, that would be more complicated, actually…
“The second,” Malfoy continued, “is that the Dark Lord does not want you to fear him. He does not want you as an enemy. You don’t need to fight him to survive; he is more than happy to let you prosper as long as you like.”
This revelation made Harry’s heart stop.
He was lying, surely.
Why would Voldemort want him to prosper after all Harry had done? After he had vanquished him not once, but twice. Especially now that he had opposed his plans for a third time.
No, Lucius Malfoy had to be lying. It was the only thing that made sense.
Meanwhile, in the dungeons…
Ron had spent what felt like forever in Snape’s dungeon classroom. There had been a crowd waiting for them by the time they had gotten there. Lucius Malfoy had been there, but he was not alone.
About three hours earlier…
“Professor Dumbledore!” Ron cried the second he saw the man pacing back and forth across Snape’s office.
The old man’s head whipped around at the sound. His piercing blue eyes went first to Harry, who was being levitated behind them with Diana and the Carrow girl. Getting them up out of the pipe had been an absolute nightmare. Ron and Draco had needed to alternate between levitating and climbing out themselves. It had been one of the hardest things Ron had ever done. Luna had been left down there. They would need to have Potter help retrieve her body; there had just been no way they were going to manage getting anyone else back out of the chamber.
“What are their conditions?” Dumbledore asked, allowing his eyes to move on from Harry and roam over Malfoy and Carrow. Ron thought his gaze moved on rather reluctantly.
Draco Malfoy was being pulled aside by his father, so it was up to Ron to answer. “I… don’t know, sir. Carrow… she’s probably in rough shape. Potter and Malfoy… I don’t know.”
“We must see them to the hospital wing,” said Dumbledore. “Severus, can you—“
“I’m taking Harry and my daughter,” said Lucius Malfoy. “I can take the Carrow girl with us if you wish.”
“Thank you, Lucius, I would be most appreciative.”
“Think nothing of it, Dumbledore. Come, Draco, we can talk while walking.”
“If I may impose—“
“No, Dumbledore, you may not. My son has had a long and trying night. I will be taking him home for the next few days.”
Dumbledore glanced from Snape to Malfoy, but neither of them flinched. “Very well, Lucius,” he said. “I am in no position to stop you.”
“No, you aren’t,” said Malfoy with what Ron thought was a very calculating look. “I think you’ll find that you might again find yourself in one if you’re more agreeable outside of the castle.”
Dumbledore’s expression darkened. Ron had not seen him look like that since he had explained Neville’s death in the final chamber beneath the castle last June. “You would hold a child’s safety hostage, Lucius?”
“I would do no such thing. He would be happier with my proposal and you know it. He asked me for it himself. Would you block a child’s wishes after having him be mistreated for so many years?” The man’s eyes had flashed with something that looked like lightning in their stormy depths. “Do not vilify me, Dumbledore. We both know I’m in the right this time.”
The two men stared at each other for long moments as Ron tried to puzzle together what the hell they were on about. “I will cease my opposition to your proposal,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I will be speaking with him,” Dumbledore warned. “If he raises any objections, I will renew my efforts with vigour the likes of which you have never known me for.”
Malfoy dipped his head. “A pleasure, Dumbledore. Naturally, I will do my part to make life easier for you in return.”
“Good night, Lucius.”
Suddenly, Ron found himself left alone with Dumbledore and Snape. “Now, Master Weasley,” said Dumbledore, “I ask you once again to explain to me what has happened after another display of valour at the end of another trying year.”
Back in the present…
So, Ron had told them. He had been numb when he’d started the tale, but the shocked sense of apathy began to wane as he went on and on. The closer he came to the part about Luna, the harder it became to speak. It was like every word tore so violently at his throat that it had swollen shut by the time that part of the story had come around.
He had looked from Dumbledore to Snape and the guilt had consumed him. It was more physically painful than anything he had ever gone through before. The after effects of the Cruciatus Curse had nothing on this sort of pain. It was like a rabid pack of dogs had been trapped in his stomach and told the only way they would get food was to tear their way out.
How could he tell Dumbledore this? Snape would despise him even more, but Ron didn’t care what the old bat thought. But Dumbledore… his parents… everyone.
Quidditch and his bravery last year were the only two ways he had ever been different from any of his brothers. Being overshadowed by so many was painful, but this? The guilt he felt for his mistake was monstrous, but others’ reactions would be even worse. He would go from the unimportant Weasley to the horrible one overnight.
No… Ron couldn’t do it. He could not force himself to tell Snape and Dumbledore what had happened, so he hadn’t; only that Luna had been killed by the snake.
Keeping his emotions under check had been the most difficult thing Ron had ever done, but he had somehow avoided breaking down long enough to escape the confines of Snape’s office and find a nearby abandoned classroom.
Only then did his knees give out and only then did the floodgates open.
The pain in his stomach had become too much and he heaved and heaved until a small pile of sick covered the floor in front of him and its smell wafted through the empty classroom. Tears followed the sick and Ron found he could not stop them. They fell and fell like a salted waterfall and Ron’s face stung with them soon. His throat quivered each time his body sobbed and Ron wondered if it would ever end.
It did, but only when sleep took him some time later.
That night, in the Headmaster’s Office…
That day at Hogwarts had been a very odd one. Everybody knew something major had happened, but no one was quite sure what. Most did guess correctly once it was announced at dinner that Dumbledore would retake his position as the castle’s headmaster, but there were many questions.
Harry felt miserable. There was actually much to be happy with, but it was difficult when he could hardly move. Sitting up felt as taxing as climbing a mountain and as painful as getting run over by Uncle Vernon’s company car. The pain was ebbing as the day aged, but it lingered. Whatever the Cruciatus Curse was, Harry vowed never to be hit with it again.
Not until the sun sank low in the sky and cast long shadows across the hospital wing’s floor did Madam Pomfrey give Harry her leave.
“But hurry right back as soon as you’re finished,” she ordered. “Honestly, I don’t know what Dumbledore’s thinking asking for you. If it was anyone else—“
“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said with a laboured wave. “I’ll make sure to be back.”
Never had he been so thankful to escape the hospital wing, but he quickly realized Madam Pomfrey had a point. Under his invisibility cloak, nobody troubled him, but it did not make climbing the sets of stairs any easier. Harry had never been so grateful for the ones leading up to Dumbledore’s office. They at least had the courtesy to carry him up.
“Ah, Harry,” said Dumbledore once the youth had stepped into his office, “how good to see you again. Please, take a seat.”
Dumbledore looked tired. One would think nothing had been resolved by looking at him. “It’s good to see you again too, sir,” Harry said genuinely.
“I am happy we now meet with the year’s primary trouble behind us.”
“So am I.”
“How are you feeling? I understand you went through quite the ordeal.”
“Not great,” Harry admitted. “Getting up here wasn’t easy, but Madam Pomfrey said it would pass.”
“I apologize deeply for requesting your presence, but this is of the utmost importance.”
“I know, sir, it’s okay.”
You know what I must next ask of you?”
“You want to know what happened?”
“I do. Young Ronald shed some light on things from his perspective, but you were noticeably absent from the tail end of his recollection.”
“Everything sort of split up once we got to the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry admitted.
“A wise course of action,” Dumbledore praised. “It was your only hope. I don’t fault your methods, Harry. What the three of you achieved was nothing short of spectacular. Now, what can you tell me that I might not know?”
Harry told him everything from the moment he’d heard the voice in the dungeon all the way up until Riddle had been vanquished. The only part he left out was that he had heard the voice of the basilisk earlier in the year. It was best not to explain why he had withheld that information until now. Especially when Harry was reasonably sure that the magic of Grindelwald’s pendant would stop him if he tried.
“So,” said Dumbledore once Harry had finished, “you met Tom Riddle.”
“I did,” Harry said with trepidation.
“I imagine he was most interested in you.”
It was difficult for Harry to speak about Riddle after last night’s dream. The teenaged dark lord had only furthered the fears that Harry had been having for months. He knew now that Grindelwald’s visions were not changing his mind, but he worried this year had taken its toll on him with its challenges and its betrayals.
“What is it he said that bothers you?” Dumbledore asked. Harry despised his perceptiveness as much as he did his boldness at times.
He considered avoiding the question, but something gave him pause. If anyone knew whether there was any truth to what Riddle said, it would be Dumbledore. “He said that we were similar.”
“Did he now?”
“Both halfbloods, both orphans sorted into Slytherin, both gifted with magic, both Parselmouths — he said we even look alike.”
“And what do you think?”
Harry hesitated. “I… don’t know.”
Dumbledore’s expression did not change. “Don’t you?”
“Well… all of those things are true, aren’t they? And… I just don’t know. I… wouldn’t be surprised.”
“There is no shame in being like Tom Riddle,” said Dumbledore. “Do notice the distinction.”
“You used his old name.”
“I did. Tom Riddle was just a boy as he said. His father was a wealthy muggle who abandoned his pureblooded mother when he realized she was a witch. Her family saw Tom’s mother as a disgrace and were never going to welcome her back. She sold off all her possessions to stay alive just long enough to give birth to her son in a London orphanage on a cold winter’s day.”
“Never came for him. I’m unsure whether he ever knew he had a son. If he did, he never asked after him.”
Harry felt rage boil up in the pit of his stomach. Of course he hadn’t, he was just a muggle. What did they care about witches and wizards, blood or not? They would sooner see them struggle and fail than support them whether they were family or not. It disgusted him. He couldn’t believe that he was offended on Voldemort’s behalf, but in that moment he would have wrapped his hands around his father’s neck and squeezed until the blood left his face.
“You look troubled,” Dumbledore observed.
“I… don’t like the idea of any witch or wizard being abandoned to a muggle orphanage.”
Harry saw something flash in Dumbledore’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “No,” he said softly, “I imagine you don’t.”
“What happened to his father?”
“Murdered,” Dumbledore answered with a sigh, “by Riddle himself, I suspect.”
Harry felt something spread wings and soar in his stomach. Good, he thought. For all the horrible things Voldemort had done, Harry could not say he was too strongly against this one act of evil. If there was any act so heinous that he could forgive, this was it.
“So… Riddle and I had similar upbringings?”
“You did, though you never resorted to the lows that he did as a child.”
“What did he do, sir?”
“A story for another time, I think.” Dumbledore watched Harry closely. “There are strange likenesses between you and Tom Riddle. I will not lie to you, Harry, you deserve more than that. What sets you apart is your nature. Tom Riddle was a brilliant boy tormented in his youth. His vice was vengeance and his armour was hatred. That weighed on him over the years until there was very little of Tom Riddle left and all that remained was the monster we know as Lord Voldemort. See that you walk a different path and there is nothing wrong with sharing likenesses to the most brilliant student who has ever walked these hallowed halls.”
Harry nodded very slowly. “Thank you, Headmaster.”
“I do have one more thing to trouble you with before I give you something that I think you want.”
“Something that I want, sir?”
“Something you think you want at the very least. First, I must ask you whether or not you made requests of Lucius Malfoy pertaining to your legal guardianship.”
A year ago, Harry would have cringed and looked away. Six months ago, Harry would have shrank back and panicked. Two weeks ago, Harry thought he would have lied.
He did none of those things now. He met Dumbledore’s stare with passion and forced his expression to stay unwavering. “Yes, sir.”
“And you are aware who your guardianship is set to pass to?”
“Lord Black, yes.”
“And you are satisfied with the arrangement?”
Satisfied was the word. It was difficult to say Harry was happy with the arrangement, but satisfied… he thought so. Regulus Black might well be a Death Eater, but Harry thought that was better than living with the Dursleys. He didn’t think there was any witch or wizard less desirable than those vile creatures.
“The second is that the Dark Lord does not want you to fear him. He does not want you as an enemy. You don’t need to fight him to survive; he is more than happy to let you prosper as long as you like.”
Harry tried not to ponder Lord Malfoy’s words, but the smallest bit of him wondered. Voldemort had seemed willing to spare him last year and Grindelwald had freed him from the Dursleys and saved his life. Harry was no fool. He knew the dark lord was using him and he was sure Voldemort would be no different, but… was that the worst thing?
Harry had accepted that the Malfoys were using him and chosen to move on and look where it had got him. Free of the Dursleys and with a life more prosperous than Harry could ever have imagined on Privet Drive. Grindelwald was using him but the more Harry played the dark lord’s game, the more he won. It was a treacherous path that Harry walked with great caution and he would rather Voldemort not be on it at all, but if he was… maybe, just maybe…
“I will respect your wishes, but please promise me you will be careful around Lord Black? His family has many skeletons in its vast and messy closet.”
“I will, sir. I promise.”
“Very well,” said Dumbledore, who looked as though the conversation had aged him half a decade. “I suppose the time has come.”
“The time for what, sir?”
“The time for you to have the answer that I denied you last June.” Harry’s heart fluttered as his breath caught in his throat. “Do you remember what you asked me?”
“Why Voldemort wanted to kill me specifically.”
“Precisely. I told you then that I would tell you when your Occlumency was at a level I was comfortable with.”
“And it’s there?”
“It isn’t,” Dumbledore admitted. “Do not mistake me, you have made excellent progress this year, but there is much still to do.”
“But you’re going to tell me anyway?”
“Is… there a specific reason why?”
“Like I told you then, it is an answer you deserve to have. I now think it might be relevant to you much sooner than I had once hoped.”
“Because you think Voldemort is getting stronger?”
“Voldemort is most certainly getting stronger and that is a large part of it, yes.” The old man was tugging restlessly on his beard. Harry could tell this was not a decision he was fond of making. “I must warn you that the information may frighten you and that it may lead you to assume all manner of things. I will only give you a teaser of the full truth today. When you’re older and your mind is stronger, then I will share it all. You have my word.”
“I’m ready for whatever you’ll tell me.”
“Very well,” said Dumbledore as he leant back in his chair and seemed to sag against its back. “Lord Voldemort attacked you specifically because of a prophecy. One that he viewed as a danger to his very existence.”
A very eventful chapter full of long-term foreshadowing despite it being quite low on action. There will be one more chapter in book 2 and then there will be a break in posting. I hope you all enjoy what I have in store for the year 2 cliffhanger 🙂
Please read and review.
PS: Book 2’s final chapter will be released in a week, but THE NEXT SIX CHAPTERS ARE AVAILABLE FOR PATRONS RIGHT NOW! THAT’S THE BOOK 2 FINALE, PLUS THE FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS OF BOOK 3! Sign up to my Patreon page to read them all now!
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