Dumbledore's Apprentice

Chapter 1

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives"

Professor Trelawny's voice faded away as the voice faded away as the memory came to a close. Once again, Harry found himself standing in Dumbledore's office before the Headmaster himself. He remained silent as he processed what he had just heard.

"Does that mean, in the end, one of us will have to kill the other?" Harry asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes, I am afraid so," sighed the Headmaster, a look of sadness on his face.

Cold fury welled up inside Harry. He was so angry – angry about Sirius's death, angry about the prophecy, but more than anything, he was angry with Dumbledore.

"You knew," Harry said. It was not a question, but rather, a statement.

"Yes," replied the Headmaster with a sigh, knowing where the conversation was headed.

"You knew all this time and did nothing," Harry spat.

"I wished for you to be normal and happy, free from the burden that this knowledge would bring," Dumbledore said, trying to defend himself.

"I have never been normal or happy. You left me at the Dursleys for 10 hellish years. Because of you, I never had a childhood."

"You knew and did nothing," Harry repeated, his voice growing dangerously low. "You didn't teach me, you didn't train me. You left me defenseless, knowing that one day I would have to face him."

"You are not defenseless, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "Because of your mother's sacrifice, you are protected by a power that Voldemort will never understand: love."

"Love didn't save Sirius," growled Harry, with parts of the words slipping into Parseltongue. He clenched his fists at his sides, channeling his anger.

Dumbledore, noticing his descent into Parseltongue, began to worry. "Harry," he began.

"Enough," yelled Harry. "You knew that I would have to face him one day, yet you did nothing to prepare me. You knew that there was a connection between us, that there was a part of him in me, yet you did nothing."

Dumbledore's face grew deathly white as he jumped to his feet. "What did you just say?" he demanded in a frantic tone.

"You heard me," growled Harry.

"How did you know that there is a part of Voldemort within you?" Dumbledore demanded even more frantically.

Harry glared at the Headmaster, his eyes full of anger. "When he possessed me at the Ministry, I wanted to die. The pain was so intense, I just wanted it to end. But I fought back. But when I tried to push him out of my mind, I found myself fighting two different battles. There was a part of him within me, fighting for control as well. Even when I managed to push Voldemort out of my mind, that piece was still there, fighting."

Dumbledore stood before him, speechless, as astonishment shone on his face. "What did you do after that? Is it still there?"

Harry shook his head. "I kept fighting. I don't know how to explain what I did. It was as if I surrounded that piece of him and... absorbed it."

Dumbledore collapsed into his seat, astonished by Harry's words. He stared into space, processing the information. Suddenly, his eyes flicked to Harry's forehead and he stared at his lightning shaped scar. Dried blood bordered the scar.