The Final Request
x
Mere weeks had passed since the end of the War.
Between the reconstruction of Hogwarts; a memorial for all of those that had fallen in battle, and so many funerals that his heart now constantly felt heavy and shattered - Harry had found solace in the quiet of the Burrow, his new and temporary residence.
So many friends and family were lost forever from the destruction of that terrible, earth shattering War. Their success had been bittersweet after all, as the world still felt the hollow loss of so many innocent, good people.
None of them deserved to die.
It felt rather odd to refer to the war as past tense - when the repercussions were still surrounding him everywhere he turned.
This point was further proven that sunny May afternoon when Kingsley had called upon Harry with a problem.
"Afternoon, Harry. I hope you've been keeping well."
"I practically live at the Ministry now, Kingsley, between all of the inquiries and hearings..." Harry replied, somewhat bitterly.
He watched as the tall man strolled through the squat little sitting room of the Burrow, and settled into a squashy armchair.
"We have a very delicate issue that arrived at the Ministry a few days ago. I've exhausted my resources, and frankly, I'm baffled. I was hoping you'd-"
"As long as I'm not being asked to save the Wizarding World again, I'm all ears, Kingsley."
Kingsley surveyed Harry for several moments, before sighing and sitting forwards in the seat that was decidedly too small for such a towering man.
"This is in regard to a prisoner. Or, former I should say."
Harry simply arched a brow and waited expectantly for him to elaborate.
"As per our customs, when a witch or wizard passes away during their imprisonment, they are allowed the one final bequest of what becomes of their body." Kingsley began slowly, as though carefully choosing his words, "No matter the means, it is Wizarding tradition to honor that final wish - within reason - no matter their crimes in this life."
"Interesting." Harry said dryly. "Though I'm not sure I understand what you need from me, Minister."
Kingsley did not smile, and only leaned further in his seat, his expression grave.
"Most prisoners never make such a bequest before their death." Kingsley's deep, booming voice continued calmly, "The ones at Azkaban are thrown into the sea, though occasionally they are cremated and scattered at the shore line."
Pausing briefly, Kingsley eyed Harry carefully before resuming his speech.
"As you know, Dumbledore's wish had been to be buried at Hogwarts, the very place he dedicated his life to. Though, I'm surprised he didn't want to be buried in Godric's Hollow... That's where his mother and sister lay after all."
Harry could do nothing but stare, feeling rather confused.
"What's Dumbledore got to do with this?" he asked slowly.
"Everything, I'm afraid." Kingsley replied heavily. "They found Grindelwald's body in his cell at Numengard Castle a few weeks ago - but the officials over there are having trouble processing his wishes. We don't even know if it can legally be done. The morals are questionable to say the least.
"The problem is... baffling, frankly. We don't know what to make of it, or how to proceed with it; so there's been a huge delay between our official customs and the ones overseas."
"What does any of this have to do with Dumbledore?" Harry asked curiously, still failing to understand the entire purpose of Kingsley's visit, or what he wanted from him.
"Grindelwald's wishes were to be buried with Dumbledore."
Harry said nothing. He didn't need to, because the shock on his face was evident to the room at large, and Kingsley nodded in grave agreement.
"Exactly. The officials in Austria don't particularly care, I think, they just want to dispose of the body as quickly as easily as possible. We've had to freeze their actions temporarily because he somehow registered his request with the Ministry here - which frankly, I don't even understand how that could be possible, he was never a citizen here after all. The paperwork was old, very old, Grindelwald had made his wishes known in the 1920s, well before that final duel between them even took place."
"I'm sorry, but why the hell would Grindelwald even make such a request in the first place? I don't understand." Harry said, bewildered.
He rose from his seat, finding that he needed something to do, and began to pace back and forth around the spindly little table in the center of the room. Kingsley's eyes followed his every move as he resumed his speech.
"We've commenced the inquiry - bouncing laws and ethics between our two countries as we try to sort this mess out as quickly as possible. Grindelwald's currently resting under stasis in Numengard, but they're very eager for him to be gone."
"I just... I don't understand why Grindelwald would want to be buried beside the man who defeated and imprisoned him in the first place." Harry said in disbelief, pausing his pace for only a moment to shoot a look at the other man, who took a deep breath as he stood from his seat.
Approaching Harry, Kingsley placed a hand on his shoulder and fixed him with a searching look.
"Please bear with me as I ask this strange question." Kingsley spoke in his usual deep gruff, "You were... Close with Dumbledore. Is there anything at all that he may have said over the years that would suggest why Grindelwald wanted to be buried with him? I understand that they had some sort of boyhood friendship before becoming each other's nemesis, but..."
"Everyone seems to think I was a lot closer to Dumbledore than I really was." Harry replied honestly. "I haven't got the faintest idea, Kingsley, I'm sorry."
Kingsley sighed.
"That's alright, Harry. It was worth a shot. We thought Dumbledore's pensieve may offer us some clues, but it's been proven to be more difficult than we imagined, and it seems it has now locked itself."
"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. "It allowed me to use it during the Battle. Though I did spent quite a lot of time in there over the years-"
"Maybe it remembers you." Kingsley cut Harry off, sounding intrigued. "If it recognizes you, if you can access it... Maybe there is something within the memories that we can use in the inquiry-"
"I really don't think Dumbledore would appreciate his private memories being witnessed by faceless Ministry workers, Kingsley." Harry muttered. "Have you tried just asking his portrait?"
"That was the first thing we did." Kingsley replied bitterly. "Firstly, Dumbledore wasn't at all surprised by the news... Though he wouldn't say anything else on the matter. He wouldn't offer his opinion to not just me, but all of the other Ministry Officials who came to speak to him as well."
Kingsley had turned away again and strolled around the small sitting room, towering over everything in his wake - and let out a deep sigh. "Now Dumbledore just pretends to be asleep whenever someone shows up."
Harry couldn't suppress a small laugh at those words, having expected nothing less from his endearing, former Headmaster.
"We can't touch the pensieve or the memories - not for lack of trying." continued Kingsley, "Dumbledore had left them to Hogwarts after all, but it seems to have deemed us unworthy of witnessing or interacting with them."
Kingsley then spun on the spot and fixed Harry with a serious look.
"But maybe you can. Maybe it will still grant you permission."
Harry stared at Kingsley for a long moment, his mind reeling with the unsettling news and subsequent task he was now charged with.
Though it felt wrong, the thought of delving into Dumbledore's former memories, long after he himself departed this world. It made Harry feel uncomfortable, like the very idea of unsettling a grave.
His eyes reached Kingsley's, who were silently pleading with him, just waiting for him to agree.
"I'll think about it." Harry said slowly, the uneasy feeling still washing through him as he cleared his throat.
Kingsley surveyed him for a moment before nodding. "Thank you. Though the sooner this is done, the better."
Harry nodded politely and the two shook hands briefly as Harry led him through the kitchen and towards the front door of the Burrow.
Kingsley hesitated for a moment, before speaking again. "Furthermore... The second problem we face lies within the ethics of Grindelwald's wish, should we choose to grant it."
Raising a brow, Harry replied, "I'm not sure I understand."
"We... Well, we can't exhume Dumbledore's grave - especially since it was already disturbed the once, and a subsequent time to return his wand." Kingsley spoke carefully, "His wishes to remain at Hogwarts need to be honored, and... Well, it doesn't seem right to bring Grindelwald there to rest, either - which is what would have to happen if the Ministry somehow approves his insane request."
Harry couldn't help but agree. The very idea of Grindelwald's final resting place being next to Albus Dumbledore - at Hogwarts, was entirely laughable; like some sort of twisted joke that Harry couldn't understand.
Then, Kingsley offered him a soft smile and clapped him on the back.
"I hope you will consider my request, Harry. Have a good afternoon."
With those parting words, Kingsley was gone, leaving behind Harry, who was still trying to wrap his head around this absolutely mad quest that he would - begrudgingly, embark on.
x
The following afternoon, Harry found himself on a very familiar path through the corridors of Hogwarts: The one that Harry knew would lead him straight to his former Headmaster's office - the very place where all of Dumbledore's memories continued to live on without him.
Harry strolled past the gargoyle statue, who smiled toothily at him - rather pleased to be reinstated to its former glory; up the spiral staircase, then through the painfully familiar door that now led him to the current Headmistress' office.
His eyes wandered across the circular room, taking in all of the sights he was so very used to seeing; then his eyes sought the one thing in the room that wasn't as familiar.
The portrait of Dumbledore was watching Harry curiously as he approached, blue eyes twinkling brightly as ever as he spoke.
"Harry, dear boy. I was hoping you'd come for a visit. I daresay, even I get a little tired having nothing more to do than twiddle my thumbs for all eternity." Dumbledore beamed down at him, over his half-moon spectacles.
Grinning, Harry replied, "Of course, sir. Here I am, saving the day again."
"You'd think one would get tired after saving all of Wizard-kind on a regular basis though, wouldn't you?" Dumbledore inquired thoughtfully.
"I dunno, sir. It never seemed to stop you."
The two grinned brightly at each other, and fell into comfortable silence for a few beats, until Harry - cautiously - broke it.
"Sir... The reason why I came, is because I wanted to know - or to ask you really, I suppose... About Grindelwald's request." Harry said carefully.
"Hmm." Came the portrait's soft reply.
Dumbledore smiled at Harry ever so gently before prying himself from his armchair. Then, he began to stroll out of the side of his portrait, humming quietly to himself - until he was gone; and the room descended into silence once more.
"Brilliant." Harry muttered bitterly.
He spun on his heel after a few moments and sought out the very thing that brought him here in the first place.
The pensieve was right where it normally was when not in use, and Harry quickly tapped his wand - relishing in the fact that he had his own, prized Hawthorne wand once again; then watched as the pensieve zoomed across the room as it always did, and settled upon the grand desk that was unusually bare in the absence of the silver instruments.
Next, he strolled towards the casing of swirling memories, rows and rows of them held captive in their vials. Harry tapped his wand for a second time, and held his breath - hoping that they would indeed, allow him to view them.
Just as he anticipated, the memories came to him in a line of floating vials as they soared across the room, where they joined the pensieve at the desk.
Harry felt a touch overwhelmed at the sheer volume of memories Dumbledore had produced in his lifetime.
Not knowing where to start, he circled the desk and settled into the visitor's chair that he usually occupied. It wouldn't feel right to sit in his former Headmaster's place, he thought.
Glancing up to the still empty portrait, Harry sighed. Then, he began to inspect the rows of vials, one by one.
According to Hermione; Harry was searching for the memories surrounding the summer of 1899.
Somehow, Harry knew he only had one chance to find the right vial and view it, because to continue beyond that point felt like a betrayal to Dumbledore himself, a violation of his life and the privacy of the true memories that died with him.
Gazing across the sea of vials, Harry spotted it faster than expected.
It didn't shimmer quite as brightly as the rest; a murky grey intermingled with the vibrant white - two opposing forces that didn't seem to mix.
Unsure of how he knew, Harry thought that maybe they were both happy, yet deeply sad; bittersweet memories.
Harry plucked it up from the row and examined it carefully for a moment. Along the base of the vial, in that familiar, looping scrawl, were the words:
Sunlit Days
Harry frowned slightly, less sure than before if these were the correct memories he'd been searching for in the first place.
He decided to trust his gut.
Uncorking it, Harry poured the vial gently into the surface of the pensieve. At once, the substance began swirling and shifting into forms, shapes and figures and soon a whole scene bloomed into existence, right before his eyes.
First, he saw what he knew to be a young Dumbledore appear within its midst, smiling softly in just the same manner as he had done later in life. His hair was shorter, auburn curls placed atop his head, and a few stray strands falling into his eyes as he laughed. Gone were the lines of age, the flowing beard, and even the half-moon spectacles.
Though teenage Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled - a different, yet entirely familiar sight that he shared with his older counterpart.
Next, came the appearance of the merry faced stranger Harry had seen both in memory and picture; his hair golden and smile bright, the one Harry now knew to belong to Grindelwald.
They laid next to each other in a small clearing, surrounded by the shade of a nearby orchard, the sun illuminating their carefree joy as a gentle breeze caressed their tresses, through the rippling surface of the pensieve.
Surveying the scene for only a moment longer, Harry took a deep breath and plunged into the depths of the last memory he would ever see that belonged to Albus Dumbledore.
x
"I almost wish we could just stay here. Forget about the others and just remain in this spot, just us and the sun." Dumbledore spoke peacefully as he gazed at the clouds above.
"We could. But then who would feed Aberforth?"
The two boys laughed at the joke Harry didn't understand, the carefree and bright smiles radiating in the afternoon glow.
"He's a lot more clever than you give him credit for, Gellert." Dumbledore replied after a few beats, turning to the other boy and offering a small smirk.
"Well," Grindelwald spoke in his surprisingly soft voice, "He's lucky to have you. As am I."
Dumbledore wore a knowing smile, as though sharing in a secret meant only for them.
"Shall we stay a little longer?"
"Of course." Grindelwald said, as he placed his hand within his other's and smiled back.
The scene darted away and remerged in a small, stuffy barn. Streams of light poured through the cracks in the wooden frame, and Harry guessed it must have been caused by the setting sun.
The two boys were standing in the center of the room, eyes closed and both hands entwined in the other's.
Together, they quietly spoke.
"Through claret and vow, eternally bound."
Harry did not understand what they were doing, but just as he approached their figures, two swirling droplets of red flew up into the space above them, twirling around each other slowly before combining, as one.
A phial encased in iron, bloomed into existence surrounding the droplets, bonding them together in the small window in the center of its intricate casing - which reminded Harry plainly of a key.
The boys paid no heed to the strange floating object, eyes still closed firmly as they held each other's hands tightly and secure.
The scene went into upheave again and this time settled into a garden, casted in shadows from the dim moonlight and the twinkling skies.
Grindelwald was leaning against a small cottage, Dumbledore only feet away, the pair staring up to the stars above.
Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he spoke. "Perhaps you're right."
"Of course I am." Smirked Grindelwald, distinctly reminding Harry of the haughtiness of his late Godfather.
The two were silent for a beat, until Grindelwald shifted slightly and placed a hand on Dumbledore's shoulder, gently coaxing him backwards into his chest.
A funny thought struck Harry as he watched.
He always felt that he and Ron had been as close as brothers... But even they had never embraced in such a manner.
How odd.
The two boys were laying together comfortably, holding each other's arms as they gazed contently to the heavens above, oblivious to this new spectator among them.
Their embrace was strictly a little closer than friends would have been, Harry thought, and into that reflection came a sudden, dawning realization.
Grindelwald's head was now resting softly on Dumbledore's shoulder, as his hands began drawing absent shapes across the other's chest. Then, they shifted their faces closer together, almost magnetic - and the realization was confirmed.
Harry looked away, feeling as though he was intruding on something he never should have seen, like he was invading on Dumbledore's most private of memories.
He'd seen enough, and wanted to climb back out of the pensieve and into the familiar office, where most of his own memories of Dumbledore resided, but it seemed the memories weren't done yet - and continued to play regardless.
The mass of substance shifted again, this time submerging Harry into a different setting, where the two boys were now men, standing on opposing ends of a cobbled clearing.
The two men stared deeply into each other's eyes from across the path, their wands aloft and fixed on the other.
Slowly, Grindelwald lowered his and watched silently as Dumbledore strode towards him, in calm, deliberate steps.
Then he stopped; just inches away.
A conjured, dense force permeated the air as it surrounded the two men within it's spinning wall of darkness, like swirling ribbons dancing through the air, hiding them from view of the outside world.
Harry felt the distinct impression they were conjured to obscure the two from any prying eyes. A beautiful work of magic, creating their own veil of privacy - though Harry saw nobody else in the distance of the scene, only the towering castle behind them, stark and tall as it casted shadows on the men below.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
Dumbledore's eyes, even through the sadness, managed to twinkle as they gazed at the man before him, and pulled him into one final embrace.
They said nothing, for the silence said it all, through the words and emotion left unspoken.
For one last brief moment, they rested their heads against the other, warm and familiar; until the moment passed - and it was done.
Then Grindelwald nodded quietly, a look of acceptance residing in his now aged face. Quiet pools of sorrow shone through his eyes as he simply stared at the man before him.
The swirling ribbons ebbed away, and they now stood out in the open, under the now set sun.
Gently, Dumbledore took told of Grindelwald's arm as he pried him away from the destruction and rubble surrounding; and he led him through the dark.
"Albus. Never let go of me." Grindelwald said quietly, as Dumbledore pulled him softly across the smoking wreckage where clearly, a duel had just taken place.
"Never." Dumbledore replied, as they walked up into the castle together, now hand and hand, and Grindelwald was led to his final resting place.
One last time, the scene shifted and rearranged into fleeting, broken images of many more memories shining through the scene all at once.
The boys were in what appeared to be teenage Dumbledore's bedroom, embracing tenderly;
In a kitchen, laughing and cooking with a blank faced young girl - Ariana, who was seated nearby, just watching;
A surly boy who must have been Aberforth, scowling at the two boys who snickered to each other in the garden as they plucked cherries from a tree;
The radiant sunset shining brightly through their entwined hands;
Them, running and laughing as a farmer chucked apples at their retreating forms;
Laying under the stars; - sleeping in a field of swaying grass; - embracing in the quiet of the barn; - splashing in a small river, laughing;
Then, at long last; softly swaying to music in a shabby sitting room, eyes closed and peaceful, in each other's arms.
Two boys - Happy, and alive, oblivious to their future demise.
Then everything, all at once, erupted into blinding darkness, mixed with the light, as Harry was sent propelling upwards and back into the safety of his Headmaster's former office.
Harry now understood what they had once meant to each other. Brothers in blood, partners in plots, lovers, lost from their path and locked away, never to see each other again.
Now he knew precisely while Grindelwald had put in that bequest from the very beginning.
He stared blankly into the depths of the pensieve for several moments, before turning around the desk and looking up to the portrait directly behind it.
"I understand now." Harry spoke to the seemingly asleep portrait of his former Headmaster - his mentor, and his friend.
Dumbledore's eyes peered open slightly, as he offered him naught but a small, pained smile.
"I need to know what you want now. What we should do with his body."
"That is entirely up to you, Harry, and the Ministry."
"No." Harry said firmly. "You deserve more than that, sir. It is your right to decide if it's the right thing to do."
Dumbledore smiled softly, his eyes shining in the memories of sunlit days past, and the ghost of the bond, the love he once shared in.
x
Along the quiet mountainside, at the furthest peak from the grounds, two coffins floated across the ridges as they were raised into their final place of rest.
The graves were dug and empty, awaiting the arrival of the two former lovers, star-crossed and at peace.
A quiet, and unrelenting peace that would last an eternity.
A distant cry could be heard, eerily reminiscent of the song of sorrow a Phoenix would sing, as the coffins were lowered into the depths of the earth, united at long last.
Unseen from the scene below, two souls, burning brightly; shot through the atmosphere.
Spinning and swirling, they merged into one, floating higher and higher as they danced through the twinkling skies - then darted away into the horizon; never to be seen again, as they blinked out of existence.
AN: / An unlikely plot with an even more unlikely end - my hopeful little heart couldn't help itself.
If you enjoyed this story, be sure to follow/favourite and keep your eyes peeled for my upcoming story that will detail the love and bond that came to be, the summer of 1899. These memories, and many more are entirely real in the deserving tale of their partnership and sorrow, of Sunlit Days past.
If you read - please consider reviewing!