Godfather [harry potter fanfiction]

20 | An Unvoiced Call for Forgiveness

"Hello from the other side
I must've called a thousand times
To tell you, I'm sorry for everything that I've done
But when I call, you never seem to be home
Hello from the outside
At least, I can say that I've tried
To tell you, I'm sorry for breaking your heart
But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore."

**A bit before, in Dumbledore's Office**

Albus Dumbledore's mental wheels kept circling around at a crazy pace without a single moment of calm silence. As if in a trance, his gaze was fixed on Fawkes, the phoenix covered with feathers of fire, who looked dreadfully worned up for the past few days.

The chosen-one returned to the land of the living in a matter of hours.

The wise headmaster's mind was in complete turmoil, trying to make sense of everything and place the pieces of the puzzle together.

If Harry had died, then surely he's free from the darkness within?

But, Voldemort was still able to possess him, invading his mind in attempt to unhinge it once and for all.

Albus blinked, directing his attention back to the swan-sized Fawkes who suddenly caught fire. Dumbledore remained calm without a flicker of surprise as though he knew it was time for this to happen.

He let out a sigh as his eyes fell on the black flames that were once his most loyal bird.

His messed-up mind leading him, Albus opened the drawer on his right to pull out a black ring from between the pages of a destroyed book.

Ink had never been spilled on the delicate paper of what was once Tom Riddle's diary, but instead the cells of the book held dark magic between its lines.

Behind his moon spectacles, Albus' sharp eyes pierced the ring as though trying to see through it. His eyes widened, noticing a carved symbol on the ring... he immediately knew what it entailed.

Right between his hands was the third and last line of the triangular shape of darkness. Heaviness spilling through his body, Albus felt both reminiscent on old mistakes and fearful from upcoming terrors.

Such an intense and extraordinary moment it was.

The realization that he had united the Elder wand in his right hand with the holed circle depicting the Resurrection stone, which was resting on his left hand, forced Death to label Albus Dumbledore as its superior -although still not its utmost master.

And just like that, Albus had reached his old ambitious goal only when he was no longer running after it with worned-out limbs or even wishing for it to come true anymore.

He was no longer power-thirsty, instead drunk with emotional weakness.

And that was the curse, blessing in disguise, reminding him of what he had lost: the broken family he had destroyed with his own hands and the man he was forced, against his true will, to overpower and defeat.

And he remembered what he truly wanted to happen but still had always gripped him with horror.

I don't blame you, Al... even though Aberforth does...

That soft reassurance sent from the reflection of Ariana's, his long-lost sister, sincere eyes was the most desperate desire of his heart.

It wasn't a pair of Christmas socks, as he had claimed to Harry back then, that had appeared when the Mirror of Erised was all his.