Chapter 54: Chapter 53
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Chapter Fifty-Three: Headmaster's Office
The late afternoon sun streamed through the tall, stained-glass windows of the Headmaster's office, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the floor. Harry sat in one of the high-backed chairs opposite Dumbledore's expansive desk. Fawkes, perched nearby, ruffled his brilliant scarlet feathers, his golden eyes watching Harry with an unsettling curiosity.
Professor Dumbledore, seated with his long fingers steepled beneath his chin, regarded Harry with that familiar twinkle in his blue eyes—only today, the twinkle was tinged with something sharper: curiosity mixed with wariness.
"Do you know why I asked you here, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly.
Harry leaned back in his chair, maintaining a calm expression. "I'm guessing it has something to do with last night's incident," he said evenly.
Dumbledore's lips curled into a faint smile. "Indeed. An... unusual event, wouldn't you agree?"
Harry's mind raced. Dumbledore was subtly studying him, as though Harry were a particularly complex puzzle he was trying to solve. Harry kept his composure, but unease crept into his thoughts. He hadn't given Dumbledore any reason to suspect him—at least not openly. But the glint in Dumbledore's eyes suggested that the Headmaster knew exactly what had transpired in the depths of the castle.
Realization dawned on Harry. He knows.
Dispensing with any pretense, Harry leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. "How?"
Dumbledore's smile remained enigmatic. Without a word, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a gleaming, ornate mirror with a golden frame. He placed it gently on the desk between them.
Harry's breath caught as he recognized it. He took the mirror in his hands.
The mirror's surface wasn't reflecting Harry. Instead, shimmering like ghostly echoes on its surface, was a vivid replay of the events from the previous night: Harry dueling Quirrell, deflecting Voldemort's curses with calm precision, and finally destroying the Philosopher's Stone.
Harry watched silently as the images faded, leaving only his own reflection staring back at him.
"Brilliant," Harry murmured, unable to help himself. "A recording enhancement on the mirror of erised."
Dumbledore inclined his head modestly. "A precaution, you might say. I suspected that something significant might happen near the Stone." He paused, his eyes piercing. "You did not disappoint."
Harry straightened. "I suppose you want an explanation."
Dumbledore's gaze remained gentle but insistent. "You demonstrated remarkable mastery over magic last night, Harry—magic far beyond what should be possible for someone who has wielded a wand for less than a year."
Harry met Dumbledore's gaze head-on. "You think it's more than just talent?"
"I believe talent plays a part," Dumbledore acknowledged, "but not all of it. Such mastery typically requires decades of study, discipline, and experience. And yet..." He gestured to the mirror, where the echoes of Harry's duel lingered faintly, like fading memories. "Here we are."
For a brief moment, Harry considered lying. He could come up with a clever excuse, brush off Dumbledore's suspicions—but what would be the point?
He sighed. "You're right. There's more to it."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
Harry took a steadying breath. "I remember living in a different timeline. A timeline that doesn't exist anymore."
Silence descended upon the room.
Dumbledore's expression remained unreadable, though Harry could sense the skepticism behind the Headmaster's composed demeanor.
"That is... a remarkable claim," Dumbledore said carefully. "And difficult to believe."
"I know," Harry admitted. "It sounds insane. But it's the truth."
Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully. "What proof can you offer?"
Harry hesitated, then made a decision. "You don't trust yourself with power," Harry said quietly.
Dumbledore's eyes flickered with surprise, though he quickly masked it.
"You stay at Hogwarts," Harry continued, "because you believe it's the safest place for you. You're afraid of what you might become if you ever sought higher office. You told me that yourself—well, not in this timeline, but in the one I remember."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Dumbledore's voice was soft but firm. "That is not something I have shared with anyone, Harry."
Harry nodded. "I know. But we were close in the other timeline. You trusted me with that secret."
Dumbledore's expression shifted, the weight of realization settling upon him.
"You are telling the truth," Dumbledore said slowly, more to himself than to Harry.
Harry nodded.
The Headmaster sat back, his gaze distant as he processed this revelation. "Time is a fragile, complicated thing, Harry. For you to retain your memories of another timeline—"
"Is impossible?" Harry offered wryly.
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Highly improbable, at the very least. And yet..." He gestured to Harry. "Here you are."
Harry watched as the Headmaster's mind worked through the implications.
"This will remain between us," Dumbledore finally said. "For now."
"Thank you," Harry said sincerely.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, though the weight of their conversation lingered in the air. "You are remarkable, Harry Potter. And I suspect your journey is only just beginning."
Harry stood, feeling lighter somehow. As he turned to leave, Dumbledore's voice stopped him.
"Oh, Harry?"
Harry glanced back.
"Do try to stay out of trouble," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile.
Harry grinned. "No promises."
As he left the office, Harry couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lay ahead—and how long he could keep his past hidden from the rest of the world.