HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 50: Dumbledore

What happened next was quite extraordinary.

Draco discovered the phoenix's wondrous capabilities. It turned out that besides displaying magnificent plumage, it could also carry impressive loads. The group of them, like a string of connected beads, clutched Fawkes's tail feathers and flew back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom without any difficulty.

Myrtle floated back and forth near the pipe entrance, eagerly awaiting their return.

"What a disappointment!" she said regretfully, seeing they'd returned unharmed—and had even brought an additional person. "Isn't there anyone who wants to share my bathroom?"

"What kind of thing is that to say?" Ron muttered distastefully.

Myrtle circled them in dissatisfaction, sighed dramatically, and fled down her toilet in a huff.

Fawkes seemed quite pleased with himself, constantly emitting melodious trills and holding his head high. He flew low and proudly, circling ahead to lead the way until they reached the Headmaster's office.

What followed was perfectly logical.

Draco accompanied Harry and the others into the office, where a pair of desperate parents—Mr. and Mrs. Weasley—were waiting. They looked at the children who burst in with disbelief, then rushed forward, embracing their lost-and-found daughter and weeping with relief.

Harry deposited everything he was carrying onto Professor Dumbledore's desk and began recounting the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets—how he'd killed the Basilisk, destroyed the diary, and escaped with Ginny. The room fell silent as everyone listened intently to his incredible tale.

Draco stood patiently beside Harry, listening carefully and absorbing many previously unknown details. For instance, Harry had discovered by chance that Moaning Myrtle was the victim who'd died fifty years ago; Dumbledore mentioned he'd taught Tom Riddle when he was a Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts; phoenix tears could heal even Basilisk venom; and in the Chamber of Secrets, the diary could manifest a corporeal form and drain life force...

Wait. Draco's expression froze.

Therefore, considering the diary's behavior, it didn't seem like an object created by ordinary Dark magic. It appeared to possess life—or rather, it seemed to contain a soul.

Another Horcrux?

Was that even possible? The Dark Lord, for reasons unknown, had taken an ordinary Muggle-made diary, transformed it into a Horcrux, and entrusted it to his follower, believing it would be kept safe...

Draco stood there, swaying slightly, utterly shocked and disoriented by this terrifying possibility. He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself and remain composed.

He couldn't afford to display inappropriate emotions in the Headmaster's office and alert Dumbledore.

Later, the Weasleys were sent to the Hospital Wing, where Ginny needed a thorough examination by Madam Pomfrey. Professor McGonagall was dispatched to the kitchens to arrange the celebratory feast. Then Dumbledore looked kindly at Harry and Ron, then at Draco. "I'd like to keep you here to ask more questions, but I think you should have your injuries treated in the Hospital Wing first. Come see me before dinner."

Draco moved to follow them, but the sharp-eyed Headmaster stopped him.

"Mr. Malfoy, please wait a moment. I have something to ask you," Professor Dumbledore said in a gentle but unquestionable tone.

Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances, then looked at Draco—who remained expressionless, showing no sign of panic. Finally, at Professor Dumbledore's gesture, they departed.

Professor Dumbledore waved his Elder Wand, and a comfortable chair sprang from across the room, settling behind Draco. "Please sit down, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco sat silently, saying nothing.

"So, Draco, can you tell me what role you played in all of this?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Draco was always reluctant to speak to Dumbledore or look at him casually.

The Headmaster had died right after their last conversation.

Every time he saw Professor Dumbledore, he had to remind himself this wasn't a ghost, but a living person.

"I was just passing by," Draco said, clenching his fists and feigning nonchalance. "I helped them escape. Nothing significant—I merely cleared a passage through the rubble so we could fly back."

Those penetrating blue eyes regarded him thoughtfully, and Draco knew Dumbledore didn't entirely believe him.

He dared not meet the gaze of this Legilimency master for too long—not because he feared Dumbledore would see through him, but because he feared the man would discover that he, at such a young age, was proficient in Occlumency. He looked down at the bloodstained Sword of Gryffindor and the Sorting Hat on the Headmaster's desk, concealing his agitation.

Professor Dumbledore paused, then lowered his gaze to study the tattered diary with its gaping hole.

"Actually, I've wanted to speak with you for some time," he said, changing the subject with a smile. "I heard from Madam Pomfrey that you're exceptionally skilled at brewing Mandrake Restorative Draughts."

Draco replied carefully and cautiously, "It was merely a fortunate coincidence."

He dared not underestimate Dumbledore—the man was extraordinarily adept at extracting information. In his previous life, even when unarmed, weakened, and on the verge of collapse, Dumbledore had still managed to extract confessions.

Dumbledore was also a master of Legilimency—as evidenced by the Pensieve in the Headmaster's office—which was why Draco, tasked with assassination in his previous life, had needed to become proficient enough in Occlumency that Dumbledore couldn't penetrate his defenses.

"Not everyone can 'coincidentally' brew such a complex potion in their second year," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "I believe everyone has witnessed your abilities and talents. Not long ago, you even captured Peter Pettigrew and helped clear Harry's godfather's name..."

"Let me remind you, Sirius Black is my dear mother's cousin," Draco said with a forced smile. "In a sense, I should call him uncle. I acted only out of family obligation."

"Ah, I nearly forgot about that connection," Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully, setting down the diary. "So when you bravely stepped in front of Mr. Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets, facing Professor Lockhart's Memory Charm, was that also out of family duty?"

"Well, there is a distant family connection..." Draco felt thoroughly embarrassed. At that moment, he'd indeed picked up some of Gryffindor's reckless habits.

Memory Charms were no joke. And you fool, Ron Weasley! Your mouth is entirely too loose!

Just now, Dumbledore had asked one casual question, and Ron had revealed everything. Draco resolved never to entrust Ron with important secrets again—he was far too easily manipulated into confessing.

"Judging from your actions, I believe that deep down you consider Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger, who's lying in the Hospital Wing, as your friends," Professor Dumbledore observed wisely through his half-moon spectacles. "I'm certain you've helped Harry and the others in ways we cannot see. In fact, you're not the first Slytherin to be so... contradictory." His gaze seemed to wander momentarily before returning.

Draco remained silent, attempting to resist this psychological maneuvering with silence.

"You may not admit it, but I'm old—that doesn't mean my eyesight has failed. I can sense that they trust you and are even willing to protect you with their discretion," Dumbledore concluded gently.

"They didn't lie..." Draco protested softly.

"Let's call it loyalty to a friend," Dumbledore said. "I'm curious—why did you just refuse the Special Award for Services to the School?"

It was obvious.

Regardless, it would be unwise for a Malfoy to become too deeply associated with the Chamber of Secrets, whether positively or negatively. And when he'd begun suspecting the diary was a Horcrux, this desire to avoid involvement had reached its peak.

Of course, he couldn't reveal the truth.

"I don't believe I deserve it. I didn't contribute as much as Harry and Ron..." Draco said, scrambling for words.

"Is it because of this diary?" Dumbledore asked pointedly.

"Why... why would you think that?" Draco finally asked in surprise.

Was it truly that obvious? He wondered, puzzled. He hadn't really looked at it since entering.

"Oh, of course I noticed. You survey this room with relative ease, except for this diary, which you seem to avoid at all costs," Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "I noticed the moment you entered. Your avoidance is conspicuous compared to your interest in everything else."

I see. Dumbledore's understanding of human nature is terrifying.

Draco sighed, admitting he was definitely not at his best today.

The expedition to the Chamber had left him physically and mentally exhausted. The spells used to clear the rockfall had drained his magical reserves. The excitement of obtaining the Basilisk fangs had cooled considerably, replaced by weariness. Especially after suddenly realizing the diary might be a second Horcrux, the shock made it difficult even to feign composure.

If the diary was indeed a Horcrux—that meant the Dark Lord had created more than one.

Perhaps it wouldn't be just Ravenclaw's Diadem, nor just the diary. That would mean even more endless torment ahead. He didn't dare contemplate it.

Fortunately, the Grey Lady was wise enough to be Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter—even without her Diadem.

She'd been right; Basilisk fangs could indeed destroy Horcruxes—which brought him relief once again.

"I admit I'm concerned about it," Draco said, searching for the right words. "I meant no harm. I didn't want anyone hurt. I've done everything in my power."

"Do you have secrets to share with me about this diary?" Professor Dumbledore asked with interest, his tone casual.

Draco forced a smile, glancing quickly at Professor Dumbledore while his mind raced.

The Malfoys had no other choice.

Giving the diary to Ginny Weasley was the worst decision Lucius had ever made.

This had offended both the Weasleys and the Dark Lord—a fragment of his soul, painstakingly created at great cost, so easily destroyed by twelve-year-old Harry. No wonder the Dark Lord had been furious upon learning of this in the previous life, and the Malfoy family's standing among the Death Eaters had gradually declined.

The Dark Lord must have resented this immensely. The Malfoys had offended him long ago without realizing it—and it was laughable that his father thought the diary insignificant.

His father had long ago eliminated any possibility of the Malfoys supporting the Dark Lord. The path of siding with Voldemort had proven unreliable and destined for destruction.

Only by aligning with Dumbledore could they survive. Draco couldn't ignore the immense possibility: the Malfoys could lead a different life—they never had to rely on the Dark Lord.

Draco vividly remembered the olive branch Dumbledore had extended atop the Astronomy Tower: "Choose the right side, Draco. We can hide you somewhere absolutely safe, safer than you can imagine. And tonight, I can send members of the Order of the Phoenix to hide your mother... and your father... we'll protect him too... Choose the right side, Draco, you are not a killer..."

Those words were embedded like nails in his heart, unforgettable ever since.

This Dumbledore wasn't the weakened man from the Astronomy Tower in his previous life; he was powerful, wise, and influential throughout the wizarding world. Establishing a connection with him early might bring considerable benefits.

Rather than being caught in an even worse situation when Professor Dumbledore discovered the Malfoy family's role in the Chamber incidents, confession now was preferable.

Professor Dumbledore, as everyone knew, believed in second chances. Just look at how Professor Snape had been treated all these years! Though Snape's final performance hadn't lived up to Dumbledore's trust, Draco thought bitterly.

Moreover, with the discovery of the second Horcrux—the diary—Draco had a growing suspicion that, given the Dark Lord's cunning and paranoid nature, this might not be the last one.

Now Draco realized the Horcrux problem couldn't be entirely his burden. It far exceeded his capabilities. However, if Dumbledore knew about this, perhaps he could find more clues and destroy additional Horcruxes.

The Malfoy family rules taught him that some things couldn't be accomplished alone.

In dealing with the Dark Lord, Professor Dumbledore—with his formidable magic and suspected possession of the Elder Wand—might be far better suited than himself.

"Can I trust you?" Draco sighed wearily, making his decision. "Telling you means placing the entire Malfoy family's vulnerability in your hands. Can I receive your protection? Can the entire Malfoy family receive your shelter?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Professor Dumbledore's eyes. "If the cost of this secret is so high, you have my word."

"You must also assure me that today's conversation remains completely confidential," Draco said, meeting Dumbledore's gaze directly for the first time in this life.

Professor Dumbledore's expression turned solemn.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, swear upon my magic that I will keep this secret and not reveal today's conversation to any third party." He raised his wand and traced Merlin's symbol in the air.

This was ancient contract magic. Ultimately, wizards' magic stemmed from their own conviction, and swearing an oath upon one's magic was an extremely serious form of contract among traditional wizards.

Once, on that night at the Astronomy Tower, Professor Dumbledore, even at life's end, had still tried to offer redemption. And now, perhaps, he'd made the most binding promise a wizard could offer.

So let's gamble and try trusting Professor Dumbledore this once.

"It all started with this diary," Draco said, nodding toward the desk. "You know my father was a Death Eater. I suspect that during those years under Voldemort's control, he acquired this diary. He didn't know what Dark magic it contained—only that he'd been ordered to safeguard it. As time passed and circumstances changed, this diary somehow—" He skillfully avoided implicating Lucius directly, not meeting Professor Dumbledore's seemingly omniscient eyes, but instead focusing on the gleaming silver Sword of Gryffindor on the desk.

"—ended up at Hogwarts this year, falling into innocent hands. Later, when I accidentally discovered Harry possessed the diary, I was utterly shocked. I even tried persuading him to give it to you, but then the diary disappeared. Shortly after, everything in the Chamber of Secrets occurred. From Harry's account about Tom Riddle, I've developed a terrible, perhaps premature theory," Draco said earnestly.

"What theory?" Professor Dumbledore asked with keen interest.

"I believe you noticed this long ago and have perhaps wondered about it yourself. This diary seems to possess independent thought, as if it were sentient..." Draco said slowly. "It doesn't behave like ordinary Dark magic, but rather like a fragment of the Dark Lord's soul from his youth."

He noticed Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes had deepened, and the Headmaster was leaning forward, paying extremely close attention.

"I once overheard my grandfather mention a word during a conversation—a word he loathed, a word that should perhaps be permanently buried in magical history," Draco said. "That word is 'Horcrux.'"

The portraits behind Professor Dumbledore seemed to whisper amongst themselves. Draco could see former Headmaster Armando Dippet so shocked in his portrait that he knocked over his teacup.

"This isn't knowledge a twelve-year-old should possess," Professor Dumbledore said wearily, sinking back in his chair, his earlier enthusiasm vanished. He spoke softly, "I believe Abraxas needs to be more careful."

"You know about Horcruxes?" Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"...It is an ancient form of Dark magic. Extremely evil," Professor Dumbledore said slowly after a lengthy pause.

"It can also grant immortality, making the soul eternal," Draco said with a bitter laugh. "Imagine—who could resist using such magic?"

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore murmured. "Of course... that explains everything. Why he still lingers even as his body disintegrates..." Draco suspected Dumbledore was recalling the Dark Lord's soul fragment attached to Quirrell's head.

Draco didn't know what they intended to do with Quirrell.

The Dark Lord's soul clearly hadn't been completely eradicated. Draco had seen everything through the Marauder's Map. He could see Quirinus Quirrell and Tom Riddle's names appearing motionless in a room near the dungeons.

Sometimes, Filius Flitwick's, Severus Snape's, or Albus Dumbledore's names appeared alongside them. It seemed Dumbledore trusted Snape, and Snape showed no inclination to assist the Dark Lord; he appeared to be studying the Petrified Quirrell and the soul fragment behind his head.

"This is the secret I'm revealing to you today. Now you understand why I refused the Special Award—it all began because of the Malfoy family. You also understand why I said that once I reveal this secret, the Malfoy family will need your complete protection," Draco said, staring intently at Professor Dumbledore's face.

He'd betrayed the Dark Lord's deepest secret.

Once the Dark Lord returned, once he learned what Draco had done, the Malfoy family would be the first to be purged.

Professor Dumbledore quickly recovered and regarded the pale-faced Draco with a questioning expression.

"I'm very curious, Mr. Malfoy—why are you so willing to share these secrets with me?" He'd never expected a Malfoy would be so forthcoming with him.

Lucius Malfoy had always despised him, yet his son came bearing such a shocking secret—a development even Dumbledore found unexpectedly remarkable.

"I simply want to protect those around me—my family and friends—from harm. But with my own strength, I'm nowhere near capable of that," Draco said calmly, lowering his eyes. "As everyone knows, you are exceptionally powerful and the person he fears most."

The Dark Lord feared Dumbledore and always avoided direct confrontation.

The Death Eaters all knew the Dark Lord had never defeated Dumbledore. In his previous life, during the chaos at the Ministry of Magic over the Prophecy Orb, Dumbledore's intervention had left the Dark Lord utterly defeated and forced to flee. He'd abandoned his loyal followers—including Lucius—at the Ministry, leaving them in disgrace. This had caused some of the more self-serving Death Eaters to waver.

"Doesn't the Dark Lord realize that doing this demoralizes his followers?" Draco had once asked his mother.

"Oh, Draco, you should consider whether he doesn't want to save them, or whether he can't," Narcissa had said worriedly. "Even the Dark Lord has people he fears; he's not omnipotent. I'm very worried about you, Draco. The task he assigned you is one even he couldn't accomplish—"

"Stop, Mother, stop! He said he trusts me! That mission proves he recognizes my abilities!" Draco had grown emotional, showing his tearful mother the Dark Mark on his arm. "I must prove myself to him! Otherwise, no one will save Father, and he'll stay in Azkaban forever!"

A confused sixteen-year-old boy, carrying a mission even the Dark Lord couldn't accomplish, filled with delusions about proving his worth and saving his father and family.

Draco stared at the diary, his heart pounding with memories.

"Slytherin students always manage to surprise us most profoundly. I must say, I never expected such high praise from a Malfoy," Albus Dumbledore was saying.

An entirely new possibility suddenly appeared before Dumbledore—perhaps the Malfoys were about to defect.

They might no longer be content as former Death Eaters lying dormant, waiting for Voldemort's return, but rather fighting against him until all traces of his resurgence were extinguished.

This possibility excited Dumbledore. Today might mark the beginning of a defection.

"I will keep my promise—not a word will slip. I won't cause trouble for Lucius either. Regarding the Special Award, I respect your choice, though I personally have reservations," he said, looking at Draco with a smile. "Hogwarts never overlooks good character in any student, and your actions today convince me of yours."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief and forced a smile.

Negotiating with a powerful wizard like Professor Dumbledore was no simple task. Draco didn't quite know how he'd managed it.

"I think you should set these matters aside for now and enjoy tonight's feast," Professor Dumbledore said in a relaxed tone. "I heard from Professor Sprout that the Mandrakes are flourishing this year and will soon mature. If you feel guilty about the harm caused by opening the Chamber, why not report to Professor Snape and help him brew the Mandrake Restorative Draught? Personally reviving those students might ease your conscience." He suggested kindly.

"I will," Draco said.

He stood, took several steps toward the office door, then couldn't help turning back to ask Professor Dumbledore one final question: "Tell me, Professor—since you once taught him, please tell me: what interested him? Any significant numbers? Anything that held particular meaning for him?"

Professor Dumbledore's expression gradually grew grave behind the desk. It was as if Draco, after submitting satisfactory plans, had suddenly revealed those plans were merely a fraction, and there were many more even Dumbledore didn't know about, requiring them to begin anew.

Draco believed Dumbledore understood his implication.

The diary might be the end of the Horcruxes; or it might merely be the beginning.

Draco desperately hoped for the former. He desperately hoped the matter was already resolved.

However, in the spirit of caution, Dumbledore should remain vigilant.

He was the wizard the Dark Lord feared most. If anyone could locate more Horcruxes—Draco had no clues about other possible ones—it would undoubtedly be Dumbledore.

Professor Dumbledore frowned and contemplated silently for a while.

"That's not an easy question to answer," he sighed, his voice trembling slightly. "Give me some time; I need to conduct research. Trust me—one day we'll determine the truth."