Shocking Revelations

Harry was laying on his bed in the hospital wing, his arm heavily bandaged and his forehead covered with a green paste. He vividly recalled the green jet of light that had destroyed whatever was there in that scar and closed his eyes.

The soft rustling of curtains brought Harry out of his thoughts. As he looked in the pitch darkness of the night, he saw the familiar silhouette of Gabrielle climb on the bed before she laid down beside her. Bemused, he scooted slightly so that she could get comfortable.

Their eyes locked together as they lay there in silence. A long moment passed before she scooted closer and burrowed her face in his chest.

"I was so scared," she whispered, her small voice tearing at his heart as Harry wrapped his arm around her small frame.

"When I saw Fleur like that... oh Harry, it was horrible."

Harry recalled the moment he saw Krum hold Fleur under the Cruciatus. The gut-wrenching wails of the Beauxbatons champion were ringing in his ears and he felt his throat tighten slightly.

"How is she?" His voice was gruff, Gabrielle noted, and she tilted her head to look at him.

"We don't know," Gabrielle whispered brokenly, "Fleur was under that curse for very long, the healers haven't said anything. They say... they say if Fleur doesn't regain consciousness within the next 12 hours, her condition might get worse..."

Sobs wracked through her body and Harry softly shushed her as he continued to hold her.

It took her a while to bring her sobs under control before she asked him a question that stilled him slightly.

"Can you tell me what happened, Harry?"

His mind flashed back to the moment the fake Moody jumped him and he felt words pour out without any filter.

"I assume you saw what happened in the maze?" He asked her, looking straight up.

Gabrielle nodded.

"After the fake Moody jumped on me, we were portkeyed away. While we were on the way, the fake Moody punched me quite a few times. Luckily, I didn't lose my wand somewhere in between. When we landed, we were sent sprawling on the ground and my head collided with a rock."

Harry looked down to see Gabrielle listening attentively, a frown on her face as her hand softly stroked the back of his head. The wound had been healed by Madam Pomfrey but there was slight throbbing even now.

"I assume you went unconscious then?"

Harry nodded.

"When I came to, I felt a sharp pain in my left arm. In the beginning I couldn't open my eyes. The pain in my head was too much, and my neck was stiff. Every movement hurt, but I somehow opened my eyes to look around. I was in some graveyard, and there were a dozen or so wizards standing in a semi-circle. All of them had their faces covered with gold masks of the death eaters, garbed in dark robes with black wizard hats over their heads. And in the middle, stood the asshole himself."

Gabrielle's grip around his body tightened, and Harry took a deep breath.

"He was gloating to the others, how he was the greatest wizard of all time, how he had done the impossible and conquered death, how no one would stop him from world domination, typical villain stuff."

Gabrielle smiled slightly, and Harry frowned when he saw it never reached her eyes. He stroked her cheek and she gave him a soft smile.

"Then?"

"As if knowing I was awake, he mocked me for being so weak, for being incapable of freeing myself, and told me how he was going to torture me, humiliate me, break me until I begged him for death," Harry muttered darkly.

Gabrielle gasped; her eyes horrified as she looked up at him.

"Don't worry, he didn't manage to do anything like that, although the Cruciatus he cast once did hurt like a bitch," he admitted with a slight shiver. Gabrielle was still clutching him tightly, as if afraid that he'd go away if she loosened her hold.

"He wanted to humiliate me though, and he asked his lackey McNair to hand me my wand back. He wanted to duel me, you see. Well, McNair threw my wand at me and I picked it up. He said some bullshit about following some etiquette before my reply enraged him so much that he cast a Cruciatus. Unlucky for me that I was still delirious enough that I didn't manage to dodge. I swear those few seconds were some of the most agonizing seconds of my life."

"What did you say to him?" She dared to ask, and Harry looked at her with a smirk.

"Well... I might have told him to take his etiquette and shove it up his nose, before remarking how it was impossible seeing he didn't have a nose anymore... I might have also called him No-nosemort too."

Gabrielle looked at him with an unimpressed look.

"You're literally surrounded by the biggest dark wizard since Grindelwald and his minions and you say things like that. You really have a death wish?" She asked him and Harry yelped when she pinched his waist. With her nails. He glared at her and she glared back. Harry sighed.

"Anyway, I shakily got up and he tried to put me under the Imperius. I looked at him blankly as he tried to make me bow, and I flashed my middle finger at him. I swear I was only trying to aggravate him so that I could have the opportunity to escape. Also, I was trying to bide some time to recover my energy as much as I could."

"And then?" She prompted.

"And then the fight started, or rather, the one-way battering began. However," Harry grinned slightly, "I did manage to take out quite a few of his loyal followers."

"How?" Her eyes were wide at his admission, and she wondered if he had to kill someone.

His eyes gained a faraway look.

"I cast a ribbon cutter at Voldemort, and he sliced his wand to sever the curse at the middle. However, the death eaters behind him were not so lucky and two of them were cut off at the waist. The battle went on for quite some time. I was mostly defending but managed to fire a few occasional blood-boiling curses or bone-breakers. I purposefully deflected a few lethal curses toward the death eaters. Some were shielded, and some managed to pass through. That's how the fake Moody died by the way."

Gabrielle shook her head.

"I knew I had to do something big enough to distract him so that I could reach the cup. So, I used the first spell that came to my mind. Fiendfyre," he said when he saw the open-mouthed look she was giving him.

"You cast a Fiendfyre? In that state?"

"Yeah... it took all I had though, and I barely had any energy left to reach the cup or even summon it. My body felt numb, but I slowly dragged myself over as Voldemort and his minions tried to bring the violent flames under control. And I almost managed before..." his voice abruptly cut off.

"Before? Before what Harry?" Gabrielle forcefully asked.

"Before I was hit with the Killing curse," he admitted and Gabrielle's teary eyes widened.

"B-but how? Y-you're alive," she whispered.

"Yeah, I'm alive, as to how, well... that's complicated."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle, but I can't tell you. Not that I don't trust you," he hastily added when he saw the hurt look on her face, "I trust you, it's just that this is a significant thing, one that can help us tremendously, and you don't know Occlumency, so the chances of someone finding out this fact are high," he tried to explain.

"What's Occlumency?"

"It's an obscure art of safeguarding one's mind from an external assault, along with many other disciplines. Basically, it enables you to keep your secrets safe inside your mind. I promise I will tell you someday."

Gabrielle reluctantly nodded.

"I was hit by the Killing curse, but I woke up a few seconds later. Voldemort had managed to dispel the Fiendfyre and was making his way over to me. I had already reached the cup and before he could do anything, I jerked my body forward and grabbed the cup. That's how I found myself dropped on the ground. It was painful," Harry grimaced.

"And then you told everyone that Voldemort was back."

"Yeah... and you know the rest."

The pair stayed together in silence, each mulling over the events of the night. Gabrielle was unhappy but relieved that he was alright, however, her mind was filled with concern for her older sister. No matter how much they teased one another, they loved each other with all their heart. She didn't know what she would do if Fleur didn't recover.

"Quit thinking negative things," Harry gently chided, bringing her closer, "Fleur will be alright tomorrow, don't worry."

Gabrielle nodded tearfully.

Silence ensued in the hospital wing for a while, one which was broken by Gabrielle.

"Harry?" She whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Can I... can I stay here with you tonight?" She looked up at him with pleading eyes, and Harry didn't have the heart to deny her. He shifted slightly so that she could get under the covers and get comfortable.

"C'mere..." he wrapped his arms around her and brought her in his embrace. Gabrielle tucked her face in the crook of his neck as Harry rested his chin on top of her head.

"This feels nice," she whispered, and Harry shivered as he felt her hot breath on his neck.

"Y-yeah..."

XXXXX

The morning came too early and Madam Pomfrey slid the curtains open. Her indignant shout awakened them as they looked at each other. She was wrapped up in his arms, her head resting on his chest before she shifted slightly. Pushing herself up, she sat up on his bed as Madam Pomfrey berated them for inappropriate conduct in the hospital wing.

Enraged shouts from outside cut her tirade off, as she turned her furious glare at the entrance to the hospital wing. Turns out the headmaster and the minister were having quite a heated argument, and whatever it was about, it had upset the minister so much that he was shouting.

Harry could make out the words 'not back' and 'delusional' before the procession entered the hospital wing.

The minister and his entourage walked over to his bed, where he threw a sack of galleons with a sneer. Without a backward glance, the man marched straight out of the hospital wing, but not before throwing Dumbledore another venomous glare.

At his askance gaze, the headmaster sighed before explaining what exactly had transpired. The minister was categorically denying the return of Voldemort, attributing the entire incident to a random attack and the ravings of a delusional child who was surely too traumatized to speak sensibly. Harry was not surprised. Fear was something that overrode common sense, and the minister had fallen victim to the age-old phenomenon.

He simply wished the man saw reason in time; else the situation could go dire for both him and Wizarding Britain in general.

XXXXX

The day passed without any incident apart from a significant one. Fleur had woken up in the early hours of the morning, and the healers had finally declared her safe. Her body was still weak, and it would take a while for her to be able to function properly, but at least she was no longer in any danger.

All of them were relieved at the news, none more so than Gabrielle, who had burst into tears before hugging him tightly.

Sirius had come along with his friends to meet him and they spent the entire day together until Harry was cleared by the matron to leave. It was then that Sirius informed him that his home had been renovated properly and they could move in at the end of the year. Harry was looking forward to that.

A few days passed and Fleur was now able to walk for longer distances and run for short distances. Her recovery was progressing nicely, and it wouldn't be long until she was back to normal.

It was the day of the departure of all the foreign guests who had arrived for the Triwizard Tournament. Everyone was gathered in the courtyard, bidding goodbyes to their new friends with promises to meet soon.

One such exchange was happening at the edge of the courtyard.

"So... I guess it's a goodbye then," Harry muttered, looking straight ahead at the wall that separated them slightly from the others.

"I guess so," Gabrielle muttered sullenly, looking up at the ceiling.

"I'll miss you," Harry confessed, and Gabrielle turned to look at him. Harry looked back at her before he caught her as she launched herself at him.

"Promise you'll write to me?" She asked desperately.

"I will, I promise," Harry nodded.

"You better, or I'll cross the Channel and hex you," she murmured and Harry chuckled. Suddenly, she pulled back and looked at him. Their eyes stayed locked together for a long moment before Harry leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. Gabrielle brought her arms around him and held him close, savouring the moment together.

"Gabrielle!"

The young pair jolted apart as if burned, as Gabrielle's mother, Apolline came into the courtyard.

"There you are! Come on, the carriage is departing, your sister is already inside," she remarked as she joined them.

Gabrielle nodded, her face burning.

"Just a minute, maman."

Apolline looked over at Harry who was standing to the side with a soft smile and nodded.

"Hurry up then."

Gabrielle turned toward Harry, and they both knew something had shifted between them at that moment.

"Take care, Harry."

"You too, Gabrielle."

They smiled at one another before Harry turned toward the Delacour matriarch who was waiting for her daughter.

"It was nice to meet you all, Mrs. Delacour," Harry said with a smile.

"It was nice you meet you as well, Mr. Potter. I hope we'll meet again someday,"

"I'm sure of it," he remarked as he looked over at Gabrielle who had joined her mother. The two shared a nod before the mother and daughter turned around and walked away to the carriage.

Harry looked on as Gabrielle's form slowly got smaller until they entered the carriage. With a sigh, he turned around toward the Headmaster's Office. It was time they had a serious discussion. The war was about to begin anew, and if what he saw after being hit with the Killing curse was anything to go by, he was the key player in this game.

The time to take the gloves off had come, and Harry resolved to do anything he could to make his fortune the way he wanted, even if he had to stain his hands.

XXXXX

A disparate silence reigned over the ancient castle of Hogwarts now that the foreign students and dignitaries had gone back home. The usual hustle and bustle that had become the new norm over the past year were nowhere to be seen, drowned in tranquillity. The majority of students had gone back to their respective dormitories given the curfew was approaching soon.

It was no wonder that his footsteps echoed across the corridor in the darkness. He could've joined his friends in the common room or the boys' dorm, playing games or having fun. Ron and Hermione had even asked him to after he had bid his farewell to Gabrielle, but he had declined with a smile. If they suspected something was wrong, he was thankful they hadn't pried. He didn't think he was in the mood to explain anything, a fact compounded by the realization that he was almost as much in the dark as he was.

A shudder passed through him as he thought about the night in the graveyard. His duel with Voldemort had not gone the way any one of them had ever expected. For one, Voldemort would've never thought he would lose his followers to a mere schoolboy, and Harry had never thought he would be able to hold his own against the most dangerous dark wizard of the past few decades.

However, there was something else that had occupied his mind equally since that night. He had been hit with a killing curse, yet again, and he managed to survive, yet again. That was a cause for concern in itself, however, the more pressing matter was the vision he had seen afterwards. Or rather, visions. Visions that were recurring at odd intervals since that night. Visions of murder. Visions of torture. Visions of deliberation and knowledge so obscure, he didn't think even the practitioners of the dark arts would be able to make sense of. He had tried to make heads or tails of them, but all he could gather was the passing figment of knowledge, barely out of reach.

No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, Harry could not uncover the surface of that knowledge. It was hazy, and it was fragmented. That was the best way he could describe it.

One aspect of it all stood out to him though, and it was something he was going to confront the headmaster about. The old wizard had played his games for far too long. It was time for him to come clean.

The gargoyle shifted aside and Harry made his way forward. Tapping his knuckle against the door twice in quick succession, he waited.

"Come in, Harry."

Squaring his shoulders, Harry pushed the doors open and walked inside. The aged headmaster was sat behind his desk, an inquisitive look on his face as he gazed at the emerald-eyed wizard. He had to agree that the boy had grown finely, with a well-built body and a handsome visage. His eyes added to his overall image, and no matter how much desirable he was to the opposite sex, there was no denying that he had a presence about him.

Harry made his way up the small set of stairs and stood in front of the desk. He kept his eyes trained on the headmaster.

"Please take a seat, Harry."

"Thank you, sir," he nodded and sat down.

"May I enquire as to why you have decided to approach me at this hour, Harry? The curfew is about to start soon I believe."

"We both know the curfew means nothing to me, headmaster," Harry shrugged, and Dumbledore sighed.

"Just because I happen to overlook these minor violations of rules doesn't mean you should flaunt it in my face, Harry," Dumbledore reprimanded lightly.

"My apologies, sir, I meant no disrespect," Harry conceded. The headmaster peered at him over the top of his glasses.

"I sense your turmoil," he began slowly, "is there something you want to talk about?"

Harry stared at him for a moment, thinking about how to best start the discussion. 'Blunt and to the point, I guess.'

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..." he trailed off, and it was more than enough. Dumbledore's face had gone white, his eyes wide and his hands gripped the arms of his throne-like chair tightly. Harry could see his knuckles turning white. The headmaster was distressed.

"How... how do you know that?"

"We should start at the beginning, headmaster," Harry implored, peering at the wizened old wizard through his hair that had fallen slightly in front of his eyes. "How about you start with the truth this time? And by truths, I don't mean half-truths or diversions, I would like you to be honest with me for once, sir."

Dumbledore was taken aback by how this conversation had gone so far. He couldn't believe Harry knew about the prophecy. How could he? Did Severus? No, Severus wouldn't say anything to the boy. If not him, then how?

"I understand that you seek answers, my boy, but please tell me how you know what you just said? You have no idea how confidential that information truly is."

Harry sighed. The headmaster was making this troublesome. Would it hurt him so much to come clean for once?

"Voldemort hit me with the killing curse," he admitted, "the night in the graveyard, he hit me with the killing curse, and I saw these visions. There were many, I couldn't make any sense of these, but there was one about a prophecy, which I know you were the recipient of. Don't ask me how I know that, even I have no idea."

Dumbledore's eyes widened.

"Truly?" He whispered with slightly misty eyes which surprised Harry.

"Yeah, and a few days later I noticed this," he said before he lifted his hair aside, baring his forehead to the headmaster's gaze.

Dumbledore was looking on in wonder at the unblemished forehead.

"Your scar is completely gone, there is not even an outline."

Harry nodded. Dumbledore was still looking at him with that peculiar smile. Harry shook his head.

"Getting back to the prophecy, headmaster, this prophecy was the reason why he went after me. Not my parents, the ones who had thrice defied him, but me, a one-year-old child. This prophecy was the reason why my parents sacrificed themselves for me, why I grew up the way I did. And I would like you to come clean, sir. He told me he didn't know the entire prophecy. I would like you to tell me sir."

Dumbledore looked like he had aged up decades in those couple of minutes. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, glasses slightly unhinged.

"I'm sorry Harry, but this is the knowledge that I cannot divulge," Harry opened his mouth to protest but Dumbledore held his hand up.

"Please let me finish, Harry. What you went through that night was something not many witches or wizards could've survived. You went toe to toe with one of the darkest wizards of our time and came out triumphant, even managing to take out some of his followers while fighting him. That is no easy feat, and you have earned my respect for that. But the knowledge you seek, it is something so crucial that it needs to be kept a secret from as many people as possible."

Harry felt incensed.

"This prophecy destroyed my life, sir," he gritted out, "I believe I have the right to know what it says."

Dumbledore sighed. Harry was not making it easy for him. But he had to give him something. Otherwise, the resentment would fester, and it was something best avoided in the current scenario.

"Okay Harry, I will tell you the prophecy, but not today."

"Why?" The word was spoken with such coldness that Dumbledore was taken aback for a moment.

I fear your mind is susceptible Harry. If you knew what the prophecy truly said, there is a risk of someone finding it out by attacking your mind."

"You are referring to Legilimency."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Tom is a master of the mind arts. It won't take him much effort to breach your mind. And if he is successful, I don't need to tell you what might happen."

"He would pluck the prophecy right from my mind."

Dumbledore nodded.

"So, what do you want me to do? You said you'd tell me the prophecy, but not today."

"Correct. I want you to learn Occlumency, Harry. Or let me phrase it better. I want you to master Occlumency," Dumbledore remarked firmly.

Harry frowned.

"I have read about it, and you can be assured that I have practiced the art. I might not have a proper mindscape but I can protect myself from minor intrusions."

Dumbledore peered at him, and Harry felt a probe against his mental shields. He repelled it without any effort.

"So it would seem," Dumbledore remarked, his eyebrows raised, "I admit I had not expected such strong shields. You were able to repel a passive probe without any effort. That's good. You just have to enforce those shields and create a mindscape. Once you're done, I will test you and if you pass, I give you my word I will tell you the prophecy in its entirety."

Harry stared unblinkingly at the headmaster, before giving a short nod.

"Okay headmaster. I will trust your judgement in this matter."

Dumbledore nodded thankfully, before Harry continued, "I have something else to talk to you about."

"Yes?"

"During the ritual, Voldemort took my blood," he stated, "wouldn't that make the blood wards around Privet Drive useless? He can stroll whenever he would like."

Dumbledore stroked his beard.

"You are of course correct, Harry, Tom can walk through those wards now, that is why I put up additional wards around the property. Wards that would take him a long time to overcome, enough time for reinforcements to arrive, and believe me when I say that Tom would not take such a risk at this point of time."

"You mean he won't expose himself to the public."

"Precisely," Dumbledore said with a proud smile, "Tom would take the advantage of the ministry's denial of his return to build his power in the shadows. With the ministry doing nothing, it gives him a head start in this war."

Harry frowned.

"Even if he won't come there by himself, why do I have to go there? Won't it be better if I stayed at Hogwarts and learned all I could? The past year was very good when I had access to the Restricted Section. I could do the same in the summer while practicing my Occlumency."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"A good idea Harry, but you're unaware of one crucial thing."

"What is it?"

"Tell me Harry, did you really think your protection was the only purpose of those blood wards?"

Harry's brain worked overtime, trying to think what Dumbledore might be talking about.

"I can see you thinking, my boy, but let me elaborate," the headmaster started with a smile, "you see, when your mother cast that protection on you, she used the oldest form of magic, the power of sacrifice, unselfish and pure, and with that, she invoked something unforeseen."

Harry's heart was beating wildly. He knew whatever the headmaster was about to reveal was going to be big.

"To crudely explain, the blood wards around your relatives' home, in addition to protecting you, increase the potency of your magic."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Increase the potency of my magic? What does that mean?"

"Yes Harry, have you never wondered how your spells carry so much power, how it takes you such a little time to master any new spell, how you can cast spells which even grown-up witches and wizards have trouble casting? The blood wards have, over the years, enforced your mother's sacrifice into your magic in such a manner that its potential has risen significantly."

Harry's mind was swirling, thoughts forming at a rapid pace as he took in the headmaster's words.

"You are telling me that the blood wards make me powerful? Like the prophecy said?"

The headmaster smiled.

"While the prophecy might have played a part, the wards are making you powerful but also enhancing your control over magic beyond what a normal person is capable of, as well as increasing your affinity to the power coursing through your veins. Overall, it is enhancing your ability as a wizard."

"Improving my magical ability," he muttered.

"Indeed. Consider it as compounding. With each summer you spend there, the improvement compounds, and it will keep up until you reach eighteen. That is why you have to stay at the Dursleys till the date of your birthday. Afterward, you are free to leave their home, never to return if that's your wish,"

Harry sat there, stunned. Never had he thought there was such an intricacy involved. Now he felt bad in complaining about returning to the Dursleys.

"This is a lot to take in, headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded before his face took on a solemn look.

"I know I condemned you to some very tough times my boy, but it was necessary. Tom was bound to return, and you had to grow as a wizard. The wards were the best option. No matter how much I had taught you, the learning curve would've been very steep and you wouldn't have been able to be ready in time. However, the wards enhanced your power as well as other aspects of magic. I dare to say you will pick advanced magic up very easily. All I did was so that you would one day stand a chance against Tom, a wizard with over half a century of experience over you."

Harry was overcome with emotion. One aspect of him was urging him to lash out at Dumbledore for leaving him with the Dursleys and condemning him to years of verbal and mental abuse, while another aspect was full of gratitude to the man for making his accelerated development possible.

"I don't know what to say," he whispered.

"You don't have to say anything, my boy," Dumbledore began with a smile, "just learn all you can, practice to the best of your potential, and be the best you can be. I fear we would have need of you sooner than I would've liked."

Harry looked back at the headmaster with a determined gaze, resolving to do the best he could so that when the day finally came, he would be able to put Voldemort seven feet under the ground for good.

"Thank you for telling me, headmaster, I'll master Occlumency, I promise, and I will become capable enough to defeat Voldemort for good," he said and stood up.

Dumbledore nodded with a smile.

"Take these books, Harry," he passed two thick books, one blue and one red, their bindings firm and done in metal, "these books detail the road to mastery in the mind arts. I dare say, with your affinity to magic, you'll have a significantly easier time incorporating them in your psyche."

Harry took them with a grateful look on his face and shrunk them before putting them in his pocket.

"Thank you, sir..."

"Is there something else bothering you, Harry?"

Harry frowned.

"It's just that, this magical potency thing... it feels like cheating, as if I am doing something unfair to the other students here who struggle like normal students while I cruise through because of some magical boost."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"But those students don't have the burden of the prophecy, do they? They didn't have your life, Harry, nor have they faced the injustice you've faced in your life, or continue to face. They will have to fight one day, yes, but the true burden lies with you Harry. You feel the increase in capability and power is unfair, but since when has your life been fair, my boy?"

XXXXX

Harry walked out of the headmaster's office toward the Gryffindor tower in a daze, his words swirling in his mind.

'... since when has your life been fair, my boy?'

He stopped outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Well? Password? Be quick my boy, I've to sleep you know?"

"Lion's pride," he muttered. The portrait swung open and he walked inside. The common room was deserted, the lights dimmed and he walked up the stairs to the dormitory. Not bothering to change, he dropped backwards on his bed and descended into the realm of Morpheus.

To be continued...