Harry Potter: Fiendfyre and Love

Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione descended the spiral staircase from the headmaster's office, their footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone walls. The battle had ended, but the echoes of destruction lingered in the air, the corridor scarred by the remnants of the chaos that had passed through Hogwarts.

"I'm so tired," Hermione said, her voice weary but steady. "I can't wait to get back to the tower and catch some sleep."

"Should we sleep together? You know… we are a couple now," Ron said with a grin, trying for nonchalance but failing miserably.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione snapped, turning to glare at him. "Don't make me regret that kiss."

Ron mumbled something under his breath, but Dumbledore didn't even glance back, moving forward with that same steady, purposeful gait, as if the destruction around them didn't even matter.

Harry watched the bickering between his best friends with a heavy heart. He wondered if Hermione would ever notice that there is an impostor in his body?

"Funny, isn't it?" Fragment's voice slithered into Harry's thoughts, smug and uninvited. "Watching your body, but not being in it. Like a ghost who doesn't know how to haunt properly."

Harry didn't answer. He wouldn't give it the satisfaction.

But Fragment wasn't done. "Do you think they notice it yet?" It chuckled, a low, gurgling sound that made Harry's stomach twist. "The way you—oh, sorry, Dumbledore—move a little differently? Speak with that clipped, calculating tone?"

"Shut up," Harry snapped, his voice hollow in his own mind.

Fragment grinned, its grotesque face twisted in amusement. "Oh, but it's delicious, isn't it? Watching him—watching you—play puppet master. And they're none the wiser! Not your dear Hermione, not your loyal Ronald..." Its grin widened, feral and sharp. "Not even your precious Ginny."

Harry flinched. The mention of her name was like a dagger.

"Leave her out of this," he growled.

"Why?" Fragment tilted its head, mockingly thoughtful. "You know he'll seek her out eventually. Play the grieving hero. Tell her all the things you never did, take her hand... Maybe even take her lips—"

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared, lunging at Fragment with every ounce of his will.

The air around him stirred violently, as if he had cast the Windy Spell by sheer force of anger. He could feel the magic tearing its way out of him, raw and untamed. A surge of wind slammed into Fragment—only to pass through it as though it were nothing more than illusion.

Fragment threw its head back, laughing, the sound sharp and jagged like breaking glass.

"Face it, Potter," it hissed. "You're nothing but an echo now. A prisoner in Dumbledore's mind as a Horcrux. And the worst part for you? You can't stop him. Just... watch."

Harry forced himself to look away, to tune out Fragment's poisonous words. But the weight of them lingered, settling heavily on his chest as he followed Dumbledore's purposeful stride, with Ron and Hermione trailing behind him, stepping over chunks of stone and broken enchanted armor.

Ron suddenly smirked. "You know, if I were a Dark Lord, I'd hide my Horcruxes in the most unexpected places…"

"You should be thankful he didn't," Hermione said dryly, not bothering to look at him.

Harry seized the opportunity. "So that's why you're so bitter, Fragment—you regret hiding your Horcruxes so foolishly," he muttered, only to regret it immediately, remembering who he was sharing space with..

"That wasn't me," Fragment retorted smoothly. "That was my idiotic side. Lucky you, Potter, that the smarter part of me ended up in your head. Unlucky, though, that it didn't make you any brighter."

Harry didn't get the chance to respond, as Ron chimed in again.

"Of course, I'm glad we found them and all, but just imagine—what if he'd hidden a Horcrux in the girls' showers? I wonder what effect it would have had on everyone. Or maybe in Madam Rosmerta's... er... lingerie drawer." His grin widened, clearly enjoying the absurdity of his own suggestion.

"You should really learn to think before you speak."

"Come on, Hermione." Ron's tone turned teasing, his eyes narrowing playfully. "You've never hidden something with your underwear?"

"Honestly, Ron," she said, her voice sharp and clipped. "Sometimes I think your mind isn't a labyrinth—it's a circus."

Hermione's eyes flickered toward Harry's body for the briefest second, but her expression tightened as a light blush crept up her face—whether from anger or something else, one couldn't say for sure.

Fragment pointed, whistling. "Saw that?"

Harry didn't answer—Dumbledore finally interjected. With a good-natured smile, he turned to Hermione and said, "Try not to kill him. I want to see both of you intact tomorrow."

"Where are you going?"

"I think… it's time I had a word with Ginny."

"Ron, don't you dare make some stupid joke," Hermione said quickly, cutting him off before he could open his mouth.

But she couldn't stop someone else from laughing. Fragment, perched beside Harry, blinked and cast a sidelong glance at him. Watching Harry's frozen expression, it burst into a fit of laughter.

Ginny—her name hung in the air for Harry like a curse.

"I told you, Harry," it said, once it managed to catch its breath. "Oh, this will be so fun to watch, especially when she thinks it's really you."

Harry didn't response. Ginny's name sent a sharp pang through Harry, a spark of panic igniting deep within him. What would Dumbledore say to her? Do to her? He couldn't bear the thought of Dumbledore using his body to manipulate her, to lie to her, to twist her love into something false.

Furious, Harry swung his fist and aimed at Dumbledore, but his punch passed right through him. The impact seemed to make Fragment wheeze and laugh even harder. Harry've got that his actions were pointless. He was locked in place, a silent powerless prisoner of Dumbledore's mind.

"DAMN YOU!" Harry roared, his voice raw. "YOU OLD BASTARD!"

"There's really no point in screaming, Harry," Fragment drawled, his tone laced with a mocking boredom that grated against Harry's nerves. "I remember when I tried talking to you—over and over—back when it was just me rattling around in this miserable little head of yours. Want to know a secret?" His lips curled into a sneer. "It didn't work then, either. You can't talk to him. You can't stop him. You're just a fly on the wall, buzzing uselessly."

Fragment paused, his grotesque features twisting into a cruel grin. "But if it makes you feel better… I could always pretend to be Ginny for you instead."

Harry ignored the taunt, though the mock sweetness in Fragment's tone made his stomach churn. His gaze locked on Ginny in the Great Hall, standing with her father and brothers. They were huddled once again around Fred's lifeless form, grief pressing down on them like a physical weight.

Dumbledore hesitated just inside the hall, his eyes scanning the room as though searching for someone. Harry's stomach twisted when Ginny's gaze found him—or rather, the body she believed was his. Her tender stare lingered, and Harry felt a bitter pang of helplessness coil tighter inside him.

Then, without warning, Dumbledore turned away. Relief flooded Harry, but it was fleeting. His steps carried him not toward Ginny, but to McGonagall, who was speaking softly to Mrs. Weasley. It was her he was approaching, Harry realized—but why?

"Molly," Dumbledore said, giving McGonagall a brief nod. His tone calm, almost detached. "Sorry to interrupt."

Harry felt a fleeting hope flicker inside him—surely, McGonagall would notice something was off—but no. McGonagall had too many other things to worry about to notice that Harry had addressed someone by their first name, something he never did. Mrs. Weasley merely turned toward him, her face pale and drawn with grief.

"No, no—what is it, Harry?" she asked softly, her voice strained but kind.

"Can I have a word with you?" Dumbledore's tone was easy, casual—too casual, Harry thought bitterly.

"Of course, of course," she murmured, stepping quickly to follow him as he led her outside the castle.

Dumbledore stopped in the middle of the lawn, scanning their surroundings. When he was sure no one was close enough to overhear, he turned to Mrs. Weasley.

"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, her worry showing in the way her voice trembled.

"Harry is dead," he said simply.

Mrs. Weasley's hand instinctively flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened in disbelief, the words not quite registering.

"Dumbledore?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Harry frowned. What was this? Another betrayal? He was tired of being shocked, and just watched emotionlessly.

"Oh, it seems we're about to witness something interesting," Fragment hissed, almost gleeful.

"Time's up, Molly," Dumbledore continued, his voice cold, unfeeling.

"But… But I just lost my son today," she stammered, her voice cracking.

"You swore an oath to me, Molly," Dumbledore said, his tone sharp, commanding.

A rush of déjà vu hit Harry—this felt eerily familiar, like when Dumbledore had reminded Petunia Dursley of her own responsibility to care for him all those years ago.

"How much time do I have?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice small, as if the very words might break her.

"I'm afraid we're out of time," Dumbledore replied, his voice a mockery of sympathy. "The longer I wait, the less chance there is of success."

"Maybe… maybe you could take Ron instead?" Mrs. Weasley offered desperately.

Dumbledore's lips curled into a bitter smile.

"Ron has his own part to play," he said dismissively. "Don't worry, Molly. I'll alter your memory so that this nightmare will soon fade. You won't even remember that someone else will occupy Ginny's body. For you, everything will return to normal. No—better. The Weasley family will soon be rich and famous."

Mrs. Weasley broke down in sobs, her body shaking with grief.

"Alright, Dumbledore," she whispered through her tears. "Where should I bring her?"

"Hagrid's hut," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. " It will be easy to convince him to keep others out while we perform the necessary ritual. I just need to retrieve something from the Forbidden Forest first."

As Dumbledore spoke, Harry's mind raced. It wasn't just the coldness in his voice—it was the realization that this was part of something deeper. "Someone else will occupy Ginny's body." The words echoed in his head like a curse. Ginny had never been anything more than a pawn in his twisted game. The thought hit Harry like a physical blow, snapping something inside him.

"You… You…" Harry's rage was building up. It was a fire that could not be quenched. "You disgusting… Damn… Expulso! Bombarda! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

His fury erupted like a torrent, and he unleashed curse after curse. He flung them wandlessly, as if tossing snowballs, but it was useless—he could only watch in frustration as the spells passed right through Dumbledore's body. The old man remained untouched, unaware, or perhaps too smug to care.

The more Harry tried to strike, the more rage built up inside him. He screamed again, his voice raw.

"Incendio!"

The fire shot past Dumbledore's ear but this time hit something—it crashed into a tree, flames licking the bark before spreading. But just as quickly as the fire erupted, something unexpected happened. Dumbledore's hand went to his forehead—his scar burned.

"He felt it," Harry whispered with amusement.

"Congratulations," Fragment said. "Now he knows you're watching."

At the same time Dumbledore groaned quietly, but then… then he just chuckled.

The flame went out.

"So, this is what it felt like, Harry," he muttered, speaking to the empty air, fully aware of Harry's presence. His voice almost patronizing. "You've learned how to not only see what I see, but also make me feel pain. You did it faster than i thought. I'm proud of you, Harry, but have to say sorry—it can't make a real harm to me. Moreover, if you continue, you'll only end up making me angry and I'll cut off this connection. You don't want that."

"The old man is a master of occlumency," with irritation Fragment said.

Harry ignored them. He felt satisfaction that finally he can do something.

"INCENDIO!" He shouted loader, his fury almost drowning him. "Incendio! Incendio!"

The flames flew toward another tree, but this time Dumbledore wasn't caught off guard. He simply grinned, a twisted, knowing expression on his face. He continued walking toward the Forbidden Forest.

"Always so impulsive, Harry," he said with a calm, measured tone, stepping lightly around the trees. "Once again, I urge you to think carefully before playing with fire. After all, you wouldn't want to ruin your chances of seeing Ginny. And by seeing her, I do mean… in person." His voice softened, almost pitying. "If you persist, however, I might reconsider whether it's wise to reunite you at all."

Something inside Harry twisted, and for a brief moment, he hesitated. He knew exactly where Dumbledore was headed: the place where Harry had dropped the Resurrection Stone, but he didn't know exactly what about to happen.

"I see you're ready to listen, Harry," Dumbledore's voice echoed, soft and calculating. "Good. I won't waste time. Let's just say that soon, I'll send Ginny's soul to you. I'm not a monster. I understand that you need company since we witnessed the death of your last roommate. (Fragment snorted.) I don't think you would enjoy his company. So, as payment for letting me… shall we say, rent your body forever, I'm offering you a companion which you will be glad to. As long as you don't do anything stupid, Ginny will always be with you."

"Looks like we're getting an addition to the family," Fragment snickered.

Meanwhile, Harry's mind was a storm, the fury boiling so close to the surface that he could feel it under his skin—if he had real body. His soul felt raw, like an open wound. He won't let Ginny end up in a prison with himself and last fragment of Voldemort's soul.

"If you continue to try to harm me," Dumbledore went on, his voice growing colder, the mockery of kindness gone, "I can close my mind off entirely. You won't get any more explanations from me. You won't see or hear what's happening in the real world anymore." He stopped looking for a stone in grass. "Believe me, Harry, soon you will be even more convinced that for the greater good, it was all worth it." He paused. "Well, too bad our connection is one-sided. Here's the deal, then: I'll take your silence and the absence of any new bursts of pain in my scar as your consent. Just sit quietly and wait. Soon enough, you'll reunite with Ginny… Ah, there it is."

Dumbledore bent down and picked up the Resurrection Stone. He inhaled deeply, and a smile spread across his face.

"Now… everything will change," he murmured softly.