Outsmarting Dumbledore

For the first time in three years, clarity settled in Harry’s mind. Not that he couldn’t remember what had happened during that time; rather, he hadn’t given much thought to it. So now, as he sat before all his friends and family, as well as his beloved headmaster, he couldn’t fathom what specific events had led to his complete downfall. He sat on a chair in Burrow’s living room, which was now inexplicably called the Weasley Manor, although, despite the renovations and new opulent surroundings, the house remained cluttered and dirty. Harry vividly remembered coming here with Ginny, and the reason for the gathering was Dumbledore’s appointment as Minister of Magic and head of the Wizengamot. The guest of honor himself sat in a chair opposite Harry, smiling kindly and tapping his knee with his wand. It should be noted that he looked quite pleased with himself. Right behind him was a row of the entire Weasley family, who were also beaming with happiness, especially Ron and Ginny. Only George sat apart and didn’t participate in the celebration, remaining apathetic ever since Fred’s death. To Harry’s right, on a similar chair, Hermione sat hunched, nervously fidgeting. Harry belatedly thought that he couldn’t move and that Dumbledore, who was sitting in front of him now, should have been dead. The miraculous resurrection of the headmaster apparently didn’t bother anyone else, and Harry’s now-clear mind did not explain as to how Dumbledore had survived. He had simply appeared on Burrow’s doorstep one fine day after the war as if nothing had happened. And most importantly, Harry hadn’t even once in three years thought about where the resurrected headmaster had come from. “I see you’ve awakened, my boy. That’s good, as Miss Granger was starting to worry.” “Headmaster, I don’t quite understand what’s happening,” Harry said hopefully, looking at Ron, but Ron just grinned and showed no intention of helping his friend. “Why, Harry, that’s why I asked Ginny to give you this potion,” he indicated an empty glass, “to explain to both you and Miss Granger what has been happening all these years. I love sharing the stories of my victories with those who won’t be around much longer. Not that I want to reveal all my secrets and little tricks I had to employ, but you should know the main events, otherwise what’s the point if we can’t have a proper celebration?” “Headmaster, please…” Hermione tried to interject, but she was immediately silenced by a non-verbal Silencio. It was impossible to tell who cast the spell. “Miss Granger, I don’t like being interrupted. You should listen to this entertaining story, as it will be about both of you. Yes, The Boy Who Lived, the hero of the war, and his loyal friend, whose parents tragically burned in their own home. It’s time to reveal some secrets to you, my dears, which you’ll carry with you to your graves,” everyone but Dumbledore chuckled ominously, “it all started when you entered school, but you already know all those stories and adventures that happened to you with a little twist from me. I always wanted to bring universal good to the world, but it required investments. The Golden Boy’s money, his family’s influence, and his connections would come in handy. We just had to wait until he turned twenty-one and gained his inheritance rights, and then take control of it all. The problem was how to control you, Harry. Ron quickly understood what was happening and joined us. But with Miss Granger, it took a while to work out because she was too loyal to her friend, and we had to find a way to control her.” “After Severus’s death, I found recipes for an improved submission potion, and I didn’t hesitate to seize such a good opportunity. There were two recipes: the first one immerses in euphoria and a desire to please the person who gave you the potion, while the second one leaves the mind crystal clear but subjects the person to someone else’s will. As you’ve already guessed, for these three years, you and Miss Granger have been taking the first potion, so you didn’t notice what was happening to you and around you. In fact, Miss Granger didn’t even notice when all her money was transferred to the Weasley family and me. And, more interestingly, she didn’t react when Ron and Arthur, disguised as Death Eaters, set fire to her parents' house. And you, Harry, didn’t pay any attention to the fact that all your lord titles, seats in the Wizengamot, and finally, all your money came to me.” Harry couldn’t move, and the sight of Hermione trembling silently was on the periphery of his vision. He couldn’t lift the spell himself because he wasn’t the great wizard everyone thought he was. But more than the spell, it was disbelief that held him. How could the people he had considered his family for over ten years and loved betray him again and again, and for what? To take his money and titles in the end? Did Ron just play the role of a best friend all these years, and did Ginny only pretend to be a loving girlfriend and wife? Did Mrs. Weasley never regard him as a son but only waited for the right moment to become rich? How could Dumbledore pull this off without getting caught in the deception all these years? “But don’t worry too much, my boy. Part of the money will go to your beloved wife, and part will go to the greater good. And now, since you all know everything, let’s get to the most interesting part. Right now, you are under the influence of the second potion, which means your will is subject to me. Ginny, my dear, bring me that dagger on the table.” Ginny brought an intricately jeweled dagger with a wicked smile, the same dagger she had given Harry as a Christmas present. Harry had wondered about the choice of that gift, but now it was clear why it was needed. “So, now you, my boy, will take this dagger,” Harry’s hand moved against his will towards the headmaster and gripped the hilt, “stand up, and in a fit of rage, you will kill your best friend, with the blame placed on the delayed madness curse that Voldemort cast on you. Well, that’s what we’ll tell the world. And afterward, realizing what you’ve done, you’ll commit suicide.” Harry stood facing the terrified Hermione, his hand holding the dagger. He understood that the potion’s effect was similar to the Imperius Curse, but he couldn’t feel it in his blood to resist. Time seemed to stand still. Hermione was no longer trembling with despair and fear, instead looking at Harry obediently, silently begging for a swift death. Harry, with all his might, tried to stop his hand, which was rapidly approaching Hermione’s heart, while several voices merged into one, shouting, “Kill.” “Harry, stop!” Out of nowhere, George intercepted the hand with the dagger and shielded Hermione. Suddenly, the room was filled with light emanating directly from Harry’s heart, filling everything around him. The light grew brighter and brighter until it blinded everyone in the room, and when it disappeared, Harry saw neither Hermione nor Dumbledore nor Burrow’s living room. He lay on a bed in a cupboard he hadn’t remembered for nine years.