Alexandra Dursley {Golden Trio}

Chapter 69 - The Games Begin

You're all going to hate me :)

 Al hurried after Harry after lunch, hoping to catch him before he returned to the library with the others. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and his tired, defeated stature. "You been sleeping alright?" she asked him.

 "Uh, yeah," Harry lied, "Fine."

 "Really?" Al said, "Because I've been having these awful nightmares."

 "Yeah?" Harry asked hopefully, before he covered it up, "I mean, I've had a few of those."

 "Did you know him well?" Al asked tentatively, "Cedric, I mean?"

 "No, not really," Harry admitted looking at the carpet, "But he was decent, you know? And just...watching him..."

 Al put her hand on Harry's arm, "I know," she said softly, "I know." There was silence between them - not awkward, but sad, mutual, and understanding. Ron's voice called from a room down the corridor, and Harry turned to leave. "Wait!" Al said, and Harry turned back, a confused look on his face, "Harry, I have something important to-"

 "Al," Lupin's head popped round the kitchen door, "Dumbledore's here; wants to speak to you."

 Al rolled her eyes, "What about?"

 "I don't know," Lupin said, "But it's urgent."

 "Can I speak to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, half angry, half hopeful.

 "Sorry, Harry, he's busy," Lupin said, "Now, please, Al."

 "Fine," Al whined, before turning to Harry, "I'll talk to you later, OK?" Harry nodded and shuffled into the library while Al took her time going into the kitchen, where Dumbledore, Lupin, Sirius and Mrs Weasley were gathered.

 "Ah, Al," Dumbledore said pleasantly upon her arrival, "Good to see you? How's your stay at Grimmauld Place?"

 "Fine," Al said bitterly, just wanting this to be over with, "What did you want to see me about, Professor?"

 Dumbledore chuckled, "You always were the no-nonsense sort, Al. Perhaps there is a more private place to talk?" he looked hopefully at Sirius.

 "Uh, yeah," Sirius said, standing up from where he sat at the table, "The twins finished cleaning up the study last week." Sirius led them through the halls of the ground floor until they reached a door like all the others in the house.

 Al and Dumbledore stepped inside. The high walls were lined with book shelves and folders and important-looking documents. There was a dark oak desk on the far side, with a chair against it, and three green armchairs near the wall closest to them. "This is perfect, Sirius, thank you," Dumbledore said. Al cast one last pleading glance at Sirius, which he smirked at, before she was alone in the room with Dumbledore.

 "Please, have a seat," Dumbledore said, sitting in the armchair closest to the window. Al sat in the one closest to the door. She didn't say a word, just glared at him with every bit of her face. "I found your connection with Harry very interesting," Dumbledore said.

 "My connection, Professor?" Al asked innocently.

 "You're very bright, Al," Dumbledore told her, "It is foolish to act otherwise." Al remained silent again. "I checked the library records two weeks ago," he continued, "And you successfully removed the book: facultates artium obscurorum excolant. I have no doubt about the conclusion you came to."

 "No, Professor?" Al asked.

 "No," Dumbledore repeated, "In fact, my suspicions were confirmed when you reacted the way you did when I questioned you about your connection with Harry. You know very well about the pathway that formed between your souls when Voldemort's killing curse rebounded and hit you. And you no doubt have guessed that it was only made stronger when you retrieved your soul last summer?"

 Al swallowed, the feeling of being caught out overwhelming her. "Yes, Professor," she admitted stiffly.

 Dumbledore smiled kindly at her. "So you have contemplated then, about the pathway Harry shares with Voldemort?"

 Al felt her face and neck grow hot, and was suddenly aware of how sweaty her hands were. "Yes, Professor," she said, "I'm aware of the piece of soul that resides alongside Harry's."

 Dumbledore didn't look surprised, but his face grew solemn. "I must tell you something, Al," he said seriously, leaning forward, "And I must ask that you never repeat it."

 Al suddenly felt oddly important, and became equally serious, "Yes, Professor?"

 "I must ask for the unbreakable vow," Dumbledore said solemnly.

 Al thought about this. She had only ever read about the unbreakable vow in books, briefly, and she knew it wasn't something to be taken lightly. And she also knew that she didn't trust Dumbledore one bit. But she did trust herself. And she trusted that if she really needed to let someone know, she'd find a way to tell them. "OK," Al said, "I'll do it."

 Dumbledore held out his hand for her to take, and Al tried to subtly wipe the clamminess off her own before she took it. She grasped Dumbledore's hand firmly and he held his wand over them. "Do you, Alexandra Rosalind Dursley, swear to never repeat to another the information I am about to reveal?"

 "I swear," Al said. A fiery orange cord shot from the end of Dumbledore's wand and wound itself around their wrists and hands. It tightened, and Al felt as though it was burning her, and then it disappeared, untraceable, fading away into their skin.

 Dumbledore sighed, satisfied, and leaned back in his chair. "There was a prophecy, made about a boy, born around the end of July, whose parents fought against Voldemort. 'Neither can live while the other survives'," Dumbledore paused for a moment, "'One must die at the hand of the other.' The prophecy speaks of Harry. Harry will be the one to kill Voldemort, if Voldemort is to die."

 "You don't want me to tell Harry about the piece of soul," Al whispered.

 "No, I do not, Al," Dumbledore said, "But, I know that you don't trust me, you aren't particularly fond of me, and so, I must explain to you why you can't tell Harry."

 "I know why," Al said quietly. Dumbledore looked intrigued, so she continued, "Because, unless someone can extract that piece of soul, he will have to die for it to die. And if he thinks fighting is futile, it will discourage him...a mistake no one can afford."

 Dumbledore nodded, a faint smile on his face, "Quite right, Al."

 "There are more people that know," Al said quickly.

 "How many? Who?" Dumbledore asked, the urgency controlling his demeanour once more.

 "Seven others," Al said simply, "But I won't say who. I don't like keeping secrets, Professor Dumbledore. I despise them. So I tell what I know to the people that I trust."

 "You understand that you endanger them by doing so?" Dumbledore told her, as opposed to asking her.

 "I do," Al said, "But when a secret becomes common knowledge, it no longer becomes a danger. The more people that know, the less dangerous it becomes. I will ask each of them not to pass on this knowledge. But I will not force them. And I understand that I cannot tell them why."

 Dumbledore stood up, quickly, and deep in thought. "You are wise beyond your years, Al. And now, I believe our conversation is finished," he said pleasantly, "A pleasure talking to you, as always," he said, holding the door open.

 Al did not lie in return. "Thank you, Professor," she said shortly before walking briskly along the corridor and up the stairs. She had to speak to George, and now.