“Crap,” muttered Moody. His mad-eye was rolling wildly. “That’s not good, not good at all.”
“Yes, well,” said Minerva McGonagall, who looked rather apprehensive. “I cannot say that for certain. Albus—well, he clearly had an intimation that he might not survive this war. But I do not think he was expecting Miss Granger to come back from the dead and kill Voldemort only hours later. I do not think Albus was expecting that at all. I am not quite sure what his legacies will make of that—”
Amelia Bones rose half out of her chair. “You mean to imply that the Granger girl may have inherited the Line of Merlin Unbroken? This is a catastrophe! She is twelve years old, untested—surely Albus would not be so irresponsible as to leave the Line to whoever happened to defeat Voldemort, without knowing who!”
“Well, putting it simply,” Minerva said. Her fingers squared the paperwork she’d taken with her, now lying on the desk. “Albus did think he knew who would defeat Voldemort. There was a prophecy concerning it, a verified one, which now seems to be in abeyance, or—I don’t know, Madam Bones! I have one letter for Mr. Potter that I am to give him in the event of Albus’s death or other departure, and then another letter that Albus said Mr. Potter would be able to open only after he defeated Voldemort. I am not sure what will happen to it now. Perhaps Miss Granger
will be able to open it, or perhaps it can never be opened—”
“Hold up,” Mad-Eye Moody said. He reached into his robes, drew out a long, grey-knobbed wand that Harry recognized; it was Dumbledore’s wand, of a form and style not like any other wand in Hogwarts. Moody laid the wand on the table. “Before we go any further, Albus left me an
instruction or two of his own. Pick up this wand, boy.” Harry hesitated, thinking.
Albus Dumbledore sacrificed himself for me. He trusted Moody. This probably isn’t a trap.
Then Harry began to reach for the wand.
It leaped up and flew across the table, into Harry’s hand. And the moment that Harry’s fingers grasped the handle it was like he heard a song, a paean of glory and battle that resonated in his mind. A wave of white fire ran up the handle and over the wood, magnifying as it moved, bursting from the end in a tremendous spray of sparks. Through the wood beneath his fingers ran a sense of strength and constrained danger, like a leashed wolf.
Harry was also receiving an impression of distinct skepticism, as if the wand had some level of awareness, and it was wondering how the hell it had ended up being held by a Hogwarts first-year.
“Right,” said Mad-Eye Moody into the puzzled stares. “So it wasn’t
Miss Granger who defeated Voldie, then. Didn’t think so.” “What.” Amelia Bones spoke the word flatly.
Mad-Eye Moody gave her a respectful nod. “Albus said this wand goes to whoever defeats its previous master. Took it off old Grindie, he did.
Then Voldie defeated Albus, yesterday. Do I need to spell it out, Amelia?” Amelia Bones was staring at Harry, her mouth wide open.
“That might not be right,” Harry said. He swallowed another pang of the awful guilt. “I mean, Voldemort used me as a hostage because I, I was stupid, and Dumbledore gave himself up to save me, maybe the wand thinks that counts as my defeating Dumbledore. Um, I did defeat Voldemort, though. Vanquished him. But I think it’s better if nobody has any idea I was there.”
Beep. Tick. Whirr. Ding. Poot.
“That must have taken some doing,” Mad-Eye said. The scarred man inclined his head slowly, a gesture of profound respect. “Don’t feel too guilty about losing Albus and David and Flamel, son, no matter how stupid you were. You won in the end. All of us put together never could. Just to check, son, you and David also destroyed Voldie’s horcrux? And you’re certain it was the real thing?”
Harry hesitated, weighing up the probable consequences of trust, the possible disasters of silence, and then shook his head to Moody in reply.
He’d been planning to tell at least McGonagall about what was now inside her school, anyway. “Voldemort had… rather a lot of horcruxes, actually. So instead I Obliviated most of his memories, then Transfigured him into this.” Harry raised his hand, and silently pointed to the emerald on his ring.
Splat. Boing. Splat. Splat.
“Huh,” Moody said, leaning back in his chair. “Minerva and I will be putting some alarms and enchantments on that ring of yours, son, if you don’t mind. Just in case you forget to sustain that Transfiguration one day. And don’t go hunting any other Dark wizards, ever, just live a quiet and peaceful life.” The scarred man took a handkerchief and wiped at the beads of sweat that had now appeared on his forehead. “But well done, lad, you and David both, may he rest in peace. This was his idea, I’m guessing? Well done, I say.”
“Indeed,” said Amelia Bones, who had now regained her composure. “We all owe the both of you a tremendous debt of gratitude. But I say again that there is urgent business regarding the Line of Merlin Unbroken.”
“I believe,” Minerva McGonagall said slowly, “that I had best give Albus’s letters to Mr. Potter, right now.” At the top of her stack of papers now lay a parchment envelope, and a rolled-up parchment scroll sealed with a grey ribbon.
The Headmistress gave Harry the parchment envelope, first, and Harry opened it.
If you are reading this, Harry Potter, then I have fallen to Voldemort, and the quest now lies in your hands.
Though it may shock you to learn, this was the end that I wished in my heart would come to pass. For as I write this, it yet seems possible that Voldemort may fall by my own hand. And then, in time, I shall myself become the darkness you must overcome, to enter fully into your power. For it was said once that you might need to raise your hand against your mentor, the one who made you, who you loved; it was said that you might be my downfall. If you are reading this, then that shall never come to pass, and I am glad of it.
Even so, Harry, I would spare you this, the lonely fight against Voldemort. I write this, vowing to shelter you as long as I can, no matter the final cost to myself. But if I have failed, then know that I am glad of it, in my own selfish way.
With my passing, there is none left to oppose Voldemort as an equal save you. His shadow will fall long and terrible over magical Britain, and many will suffer and die for it. That shadow will not lift until you destroy its source, until you cleanse the heart of the darkness. How you are to do this, I do not know. If Voldemort knows not the power you bear, then neither do I. You must find that power within yourself, you must learn to wield it, you must become Voldemort’s final judge, and I beg you not to make the error of showing him mercy.
My wand, which I have left to you in Moody’s keeping, you must not dare to wield against Voldemort. For when that wand’s master is defeated, it passes to the victor in turn. When you have conquered my conqueror, then the wand will answer truly to your hand; but if you try to turn it against Voldemort before then, it will betray you for certain. Keep it out of Voldemort’s grasp at all costs. I should advise you not to wield that wand at all, yet it is a device of great power, which you might need in some desperate case. But if you pick it up you must fear its treachery at all times.
In my absence, the Wizengamot will inevitably fall to Malfoy. The Line of Merlin Unbroken I have passed to you, with Amelia Bones as your regent, until you come of age or come into your power. But she cannot oppose Malfoy for long, not with myself gone and Voldemort returned to advise him. Soon, I think, the Ministry will fall, and Hogwarts will become the last fortress. To Minerva I have left Hogwarts’s keys, but you alone are its prince, and she will help you however she can.