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HP468- Say Hello
🕑 Added 2025-07-16 22:30:15 +0000 UTC“Is that so, Albus Riddle?”
Harry stopped in front of the door, his hand still resting on the handle. A slow smile spread across his face as he turned back, eyes glittering faintly in the lamplight.
“So, you’ve pieced it together,” he said, sounding almost amused. “Did you like the name? Thought it had a certain poetry to it. I borrowed the two people who’ve done me the most harm and gave them the honour of sharing my alias.”
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, fingertips pressed together. “Why did you save Bellatrix Lestrange?”
Harry’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes glinted like a blade catching light. “Is that your next mystery, Headmaster? You’re slipping. I thought you’d have worked that out already.”
Dumbledore didn’t rise to the bait. “You could have left her to get caught. Instead, you intervened.”
“I did.” Harry shrugged lightly. “Call it a practical decision. She is useful. Why waste a resource?”
“Useful?” Dumbledore’s voice was calm, but there was a faint edge to it now. “Bellatrix Lestrange is a murderer. A fanatic. Do you imagine you can leash her madness?”
Harry let out another laugh as if Dumbledore’s question amused him far more than it should. “You brought Slughorn here to sniff out how many Horcruxes Voldemort might’ve made, didn’t you? You needn’t have gone to the trouble.” He leaned a shoulder casually against the doorframe. “I told you at the Ministry, Headmaster... you don’t need to worry about them. Voldemort made six. I was the accidental seventh. With his own fragment of soul, that made eight.”
Harry’s eyes glittered faintly, his grin widening to unsettle. “Eight is not a number magic favours. It shattered him. Left me marked for ever, as you so poetically put it the night you dumped me on the Dursleys’ doorstep.”
Dumbledore’s fingers twitched slightly on the desktop, but he said nothing.
“Let me save you some breath,” Harry continued smoothly. “One Horcrux was the Head Boy badge he left buried in some godforsaken forest in Albania... that is how he clawed his way back into a body. Another was the diary he handed off to Lucius Malfoy. The third? Lent to Bellatrix Lestrange, sitting pretty in her vault at Gringotts. Without Bellatrix, it would be impossible to retrieve, wouldn’t it?” Harry’s voice dipped slightly to lace his next words with a mocking edge. “So tell me, Headmaster, why do you think I saved Bellatrix Lestrange?”
Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “You intend to use her.”
“Use her?” Harry echoed lightly, lips twitching in faint amusement. “Headmaster, you’re thinking in labels again. Always so quick to divide people into tools and tyrants. You are the one who keeps putting people into boxes. Always certain someone is going to end up another Dark Lord. Perhaps that is because your closest friend became one, hmm? But let’s clear this up now, I don’t use people. I am not about purity or sainthood either, but I do try to avoid evil where I can.”
“I saved Bellatrix because her family never gave her a chance. Yes, she’s done horrific things... no denying that. And if Neville had wanted her for revenge, I wouldn’t have stopped him. But I saved her because I needed the Horcrux she was guarding. I took it. I destroyed Voldemort’s soul piece. End of story.”
Dumbledore’s fingers drummed faintly against the polished wood. “And you believe she will simply follow you? Bellatrix Lestrange has never bowed to anyone but Voldemort.”
Dumbledore’s sharp blue eyes stayed locked on Harry’s, but he didn’t speak.
“You like to assume everyone’s angling for power,” Harry went on lightly, the corner of his mouth curling upward. “It must be exhausting. Not everyone’s looking to build a throne, Headmaster. Some of us prefer a sturdy chair and a quiet life.”
“Yet you’ve surrounded yourself with power,” Dumbledore said softly. “The influence you wield among your peers… and now, Bellatrix Lestrange herself.”
Harry shook his head slowly, lips tugging into the kind of faint smirk that never reached his eyes. “One of these days, Headmaster,” he said lightly, “I am going to crack your secret. And when I do, decades of your neat little plans are going to crumble like old parchment.”
He tilted his head. “But humour me for a second... why did you travel all the way to North Korea to save Voldemort? You knew the second he stepped into uncharted waters those secluded masters would destroy him. And yet, you left this school for nearly a year to make sure he finished his plan, killed countless innocents, and farmed thousands of Dementors. Is that the Greater Good you keep talking about?”
Dumbledore didn’t flinch, though his blue eyes sharpened just slightly, like the glint of glass catching light.
“You’ve been digging,” the old man said mildly. “More than I expected.”
Harry gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve been underestimating me since day one. That is the real joke here.”
The Headmaster’s fingers tapped twice against the polished wood before stilling. “You believe I acted to preserve Voldemort?”
“I don’t believe,” Harry countered, “I know. There isn’t a stone in that wretched country you didn’t turn over for his sake.”
“Why would I do such a thing?” Dumbledore asked, tone deceptively patient.
Harry's green eyes glittering faintly. “Because you needed him alive. You wanted him stronger. A weakened Tom Riddle couldn’t drive the fear you needed. A true monster, though? One that would force wizards and witches to turn to you for salvation? That is much more useful.”
Dumbledore didn’t speak immediately. His gaze lingered on Harry, as though he was measuring the boy in front of him.
“Is that what you believe I’ve spent my life doing? Crafting villains to justify heroes?”
Harry smiled faintly. “No, not heroes. Just you.”
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. The air in the office felt heavier, the soft ticking of a brass contraption in the corner the only sound.
“You speak as though I am some puppet master,” Dumbledore said at last. “I assure you, Harry, my hands are not so steady as to pull every string.”
“Oh, I never said your hands didn’t shake. But shaky or not, you’ve been tugging strings since Grindelwald’s days, haven’t you?”
Dumbledore’s fingers curled faintly atop his desk, but his voice remained even. “Voldemort is not a tool, Harry. He is a consequence.”
Harry chuckled again. “You are good at excuses, I will give you that. But you’ve slipped, Headmaster. You don’t go gallivanting halfway around the world unless you’ve got something to gain. So what was it? Did you want to see if the Dark Lord could tame the Dementors? Or were you hoping he would fail so you could sweep in as the hero again?”
“Enough,” Dumbledore said, the softness of his voice failing to mask the steel beneath.
Harry arched a brow. “Touched a nerve, have I?”
“You speak as though you understand every facet of this war,” Dumbledore said quietly. “But there are depths you have not yet plumbed.”
“Try me,” Harry said.
Dumbledore’s blue eyes didn’t waver. “Voldemort sought power in North Korea because he believed it would grant him dominion over death itself. I went there because if he succeeded unchecked, even you wouldn’t be sitting here now.”
Harry tilted his head slightly, studying the older wizard like he might a particularly stubborn lock. “So you saved him to stop him later. That is clever. Or perhaps foolish. But let’s not pretend you didn’t have choices. You made yours.”
“You speak of choices, yet your path grows no brighter,” Dumbledore said, voice cool. “Bellatrix Lestrange walks free because of you. What do you imagine your friends would say if they knew?”
He let out a humorless chuckle. “Ah, the friends card. How very Gryffindor of you.”
“They deserve to know,” Dumbledore pressed.
Harry turned back to the door, his fingers brushing the handle. “They already do,” he said smoothly. “Unlike you, I am not the one keeping secrets.” He pulled the door open with a soft creak and glanced over his shoulder, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “Say hello to Grindelwald for me.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped out, letting the door close behind him with a quiet click.
