Chapter 43: The Greater Good
17th March 1995
(Dumbledore POV)
Something was wrong. Scratch that, everything was wrong. Something had happened to his magic. Albus Dumbledore was pacing around in his office. He had felt for days that something was amiss, but he ignored it. He, Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard since the great Merlin himself, had lost most of his magic and he had no idea how.
Could it be a ploy from the dark families? He had recently led the light families into restricting some of the freedoms and magics that they used. He banned the traditional celebration such as Yule, Beltane and Samhain and the use of the ceremonial rituals. It was rituals to deepen one’s connection to their magic and to purify it. Some even allowed limited communication with the dead at Samhain when the walls of the afterlife are the thinnest.
Of course, it was nonsense; he had tried to use that particular ritual once and it did not communicate with the dead. What it does actually achieve is giving the participant a feeling of their dead loved ones. Like sounds or smells. He, for example, heard his sister’s laugh, he smelled his mother’s cooking, his father’s pipe. Memories of happier times, before his sister was attacked by Muggles, before his father was sent to Azkaban, before his mother was killed by his sister’s uncontrollable magic, before his family name was shamed. He missed them terribly. It was as if they were right there, next to him. But they weren’t.
It was then that he realized how dangerous those practices are. The dead should stay dead, where they should be at peace, where they cannot judge the living. Furthermore, the dark families used rituals during the Spring Equinox to avoid the repercussions of their vile magic. They were used to balance their magic and make sure they do not go mad or insane with power. People should accept the consequences of their actions, it’s the law of nature, hence these rituals are unnatural. These holidays were outdated anyway, and when he became headmaster of Hogwarts, he slowly removed these celebrations and replaced them by their muggle counterparts. Why participate in necromantic rituals to summon the dead on Samhain when children could just eat candy and relax instead on Halloween.
And ever since the fall of Voldemort at Nathan Potter’s hand, he had used the momentum and the trials of the death eaters into slowly removing their influence. He had disallowed the farming of certain creatures or plants that dark families sold, decreasing their income, thus their influence, drastically. He banned certain potions, mostly ones that were used the most by death eaters. He pretty much banned every battle magic spell that he considered too powerful and that was the price the ‘imperioused’ death eaters had to pay to stay out of Azkaban.
The dark families suffered greatly, and he enjoyed every bit of it. Even the neutral families lost a lot of money because of his new laws. These families are only interested in money and are mostly traders and businessmen. Damn fence sitters, they only choose sides when they know it’s the winning one. He, however, prospered immensely, in monetary value of course. He needed funding for the world he was building and what most people don’t realize is that he was the only competent alchemist in Britain and as such had a monopoly in all alchemically created items. Alchemical elixirs and materials are only made by him and thus he chooses what they cost.
After a few decades of slowly inflating the prices, he was one of the richest men in Britain, Malfoys be damned. He wished he could have spared the gold to help out the Potters when they needed a new home, but his gold was only for funding the new world he’s been building for almost a century. It was his life dream. Plus, it gave him a way to separate the Potter twins.
Anyway, he made a lot of enemies when he oppressed the dark faction as much as he did and he wouldn’t put it past Lucious Malfoy to find a way to attack him, especially after his involvement in the chamber of secrets situation last year. Malfoy could somehow have found a blood ritual to attack Albus’ magic and it worried him greatly that the slippery man had access to such magic.
But when could he have done this? He had barely noticed it happening. He only noticed during a lesson with Nathan where he tried to show him a particularly powerful shield spell and he failed to actually perform it. It was a spell that wasn’t too powerful and was one the average auror could use, it was just an obscure spell. It was embarrassing how bad the situation was. He, Albus Dumbledore, being magically weaker than aurors, it was inconceivable. It was only luck that the boy hadn’t noticed when he used the spell. He was too distracted by the situation with his sister.
Now, he needed to understand when he could possibly have been cursed. He always makes sure that no one has access to blood, and he stayed in Hogwarts ever since the second task. Well, if it is a curse, he could remove it, no matter how powerful it is, it’s still no match for a deathly hallows. A simple dispelling charm from the death stick could remove any curse in existence.
Dumbledore points the elder wand towards his person and pours every ounce of magic he has and casts “Finite incantatem!!” There is a bright light and Dumbledore fell unconscious.
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Dumbledore woke up three hours later, on the floor of his office. He hadn’t expected to actually pass out just from one spell, but he quickly got up and tried to cast the shield spell that he failed to cast before. He cast “praesidium ab tenebris!!” and small white mist emits from the most powerful wand in the world, he’s hopeful for a fraction of a second before the mist disappears, meaning the spell failed.
He didn’t understand. Theoretically, a second year with the elder wand, if he cast the dispelling charm, could remove any curse. So, either there was no curse, or the wand doesn’t work for him anymore. He tested the wand once more. He destroyed one of his trinkets, a useless one really, and cast a repairing charm on it. The object fixed itself, but the enchantments remained broken. This wasn’t right, the elder wand allowed artifacts to be fixed with a simple repairing charm, including whatever charm, curses, or enchantments they held.
Which meant only one thing, he had lost the allegiance of the elder wand. He looked at the wand in horror. How? That was the question. And why leave the wand? Whoever is now the owner of the wand mustn’t have known what they achieved, meaning they don’t know they’re the master of the most powerful wand in the universe.
Ok, think, Albus. The elder wand only changes masters if its previous owner was killed or if they were disarmed. He hasn’t been killed, obviously so someone disarmed him. The wand worked perfectly when he used it to set up the second task so it must have been recent. But how, he hadn’t lost his wand ever since then. He was the only person to ever touch his wand except for…
No! It can’t be… Jasmine Potter. She had technically disarmed him with her accidental magic, and she did hold his wand to give it back. He needed to make sure it was true. He practically raced over to the other side of the room to retrieve his pensieve and removed the memory from his mind and deposited it into the water and put face inside the pensieve to look at the memory with more detail. He skipped the conversation and went directly to when he tried to obliviate the girl.
As an observer, the magic wave the girl accidentally used was impressive. But what he did notice was that the wave, when it touched him, he let go of the wand. Later when they got up, the Potter girl picked up his wand from the floor to give it to him. What was intriguing was the fact that sparks came out of the wand. Like when a wand chooses a wizard at Ollivander’s. He was now certain; she was the new master of the elder wand.
All he had to do was to disarm the girl, but to do so, he had to meet her alone. He couldn’t risk disarming her with witnesses and fudging up when obliviating the witnesses. Not with how his magic was now, he just couldn’t take the chance. The problem was that the girl was never alone, and she could disappear for months at a time, so she was too unpredictable to corner with a trap. The only time where he would be sure that she was alone was during the third task. He’ll trap her, then disarm her and stun her. Should be easy enough. It was a fourteen year old girl after all.
But was the elder wand the reason he lost so much magic? With the elder wand he could dispel whatever curse was put on him but what if it wasn’t a curse. Dumbledore remembers Gellert once telling him, when he was visiting him in Nurmengard, that there was a price for the power the elder wand offers and Gellert’s magic did seem weaker after he lost the death stick. He couldn’t afford to lose his magic. Not with Voldemort’s return being so close. He knew what Barty Crouch Junior was planning, the fact that he thought he could fool him by replacing a friend of his was ridiculous. A few seconds after talking to him, he knew that Moody was an impostor. He didn’t even try to use the code word they used to identify themselves. He has always thought that Alastor was too paranoid, he had to admit defeat on this. A bout of legilimency later, and he knew of the entire plan and saw no reason to intervene. It was time for Tom to return anyway.
But now, he regretted not stopping the scheme. He was now the weakest he had ever been in a long time, and he wasn’t ready for war anymore. Now, he was desperate, and he remembered something. A plan, a great and terrible plan. It was a last resort for him to use if he hadn’t accomplished his dream in enough time or if Tom truly became immortal. After all, what better way to fight an immortal if you became one yourself. The magic boost wouldn’t hurt either.
Dumbledore didn’t want to do it. He really didn’t but this was for the greater good. The ritual he had modified was a very complicated one. One Merlin himself created. Albus had always idolized the man. He had even tried to learn sorcery in his youth, to become the sorcerer supreme like his idol. But he found out that Wizards couldn’t use sorcery, it was instinctual to use their magic and not dimensional energy. He had no idea how Merlin did it. Was he born different, or did he teach himself how? Maybe someone taught it to him? No that would be ridiculous, he would have known if there were other wizard sorcerers in history. It doesn’t matter now.
What does matter is the choice he has to make. He has to choose between what is right and what is easy. Albus would always choose what is right. It’s his nature. He had to go through with the ritual, it was for the greater good of the magical world.
Albus gathered the materials, a heart of a dragon, a bone of a dementor, the talon of a griffin, a tooth from a basilisk and the blood of a thestral. Albus drew the rune on the ground in his blood and positioned the ingredients in their rightful places. He had rechecked his work a few dozen time. He was ready. He looked at the final participant of the ritual, Fawkes. He was bound and immobilized. Albus didn’t have the strength to look at his companion’s eyes. He put Fawkes in the middle of the ritual and started chanting. The runes started to glow, each one of the ingredients burst into white flames, destroying them.
Then Dumbledore stopped chanting and he looked at Fawkes for the first time since forcing him into the ritual. The sadness in the phoenix’s eyes was heartbreaking and he notices that his eyes started to water. Fawkes let out a mournful trill, as if trying to convey his disappointment, as if he expected this betrayal from him. Then the phoenix started to fade. Unlike his rebirth, Fawkes didn’t burst into flame, he slowly faded into nothing, leaving nothing behind, not even the customary ashes. Albus knew in his heart that Fawkes wasn’t coming back anymore. He didn’t have time to mourn his friend as he suddenly felt as if he was burning from the inside out. Something about him is fundamentally changing. Suddenly, the pain became too much, and he fell to the bliss of unconsciousness.