Chapters 181-190

Questions…

‘Then how does it work?’ Harry demanded.

‘Professor Dumbledore Sir says you will has need the Elder Wand. Then one of you must use Elder Wand to make whole Stone. And you must wear the Cloak. Then all—’ Dobby’s voice quavered, ‘will be well.’

‘What does he mean with that?’ Harry asked suspiciously.

Dumbledore hadn’t been precisely forthcoming with information that was in any way complete in life. And the conversation they’d had in the train station that apparently constituted his personal, subjective dimension of Death, well…he’d wanted everything to be over so much…Harry knew he hadn’t paid enough attention to what was said. That was something he’d come to regret bitterly in the following months, as he struggled to remember, to understand, to…cope.

Harry glanced at Snape. The sharp crease between his brows indicated that he wasn’t happy with Dobby’s explanation either. Harry experienced a surprising surge of gratitude. Snape may be a pain in the arse, he thought, but…I do trust him.

Dobby cocked his head and narrowed his eyes to wrinkly, thoughtful slits. Souls might have no need of words, but obviously the concepts Dumbledore wanted to convey were seriously taxing the house-elf’s abilities to translate them into complete sentences.

‘Professor Dumbledore Sir is making Dobby’s head hurt,’ the house-elf wailed.

Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘How is that even possible?’ he asked. ‘You’re dead.’

Dobby’s face screwed up. ‘Dobby is not knowing, Harry Potter, sir. But is. Is, is, is.’

Next to Harry, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and silently shook his head. Harry sighed. ‘Look, just try. We’ll figure it out. It doesn’t have to be a perfect explanation, okay, Dobby?’

The elf sniffled and gave Harry a watery smile. ‘Harry Potter is such a great wizard, sir. Such a great, great wizard.’

Next to Harry, Snape stifled a sound caught somewhere between a snort and laughter. ‘Thank you, Dobby,’ Harry said. ‘Would you try explaining to us what Dumbledore told you now?’

‘Yes, Dobby is will try.’ The house-elf nodded vigorously. ‘Is merging death with death. Is abs- absorbing life. Is…dissolution. Is…liberation. The ultimate equation.’

‘Right,’ Harry said and tried to fight the mad urge to pound his head on the ground in house-elf-fashion. ‘I have absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean.’

Dobby suddenly looked at Snape. ‘Professor Dumbledore Sir says that Professor Snape Sir will understand. I is supposed to say…’ He screwed up his face again in intense concentration, then rattled off something that sounded like a quotation: “Like a flame blown out by a strong wind goes to rest and cannot be defined, a mind freed from soul and body goes to rest and cannot be defined. For him who has gone to rest there is no measure and no means to describe him; that is not for him. When all has gone, all signs of recognition have also gone.”’

Harry turned to Severus. ‘Do you understand that, sir?’

Snape stared at the Resurrection Stone. After a while he replied, his voice very soft, ‘Yes, I…do understand. You may recall that we—he and I—had an argument pertaining…souls. What you saw, in that particular memory, was neither the beginning nor the end of the argument. Though certainly a highlight.’ His thin lips curled into a mirthless smile. ‘Dumbledore is talking about what certain Muggle religions refer to as “nirvana” or “moksa”. The dissolution of the immortal soul, the final dispersion of mind, soul and body.’

At last he sighed and turned to face Harry. When he spoke again, he sounded incredibly weary, ‘To put it bluntly—I get to “kill” Dumbledore all over again.’

oooOooo

Harry’s reaction proved once more how much the young wizard had matured during the last three years. He didn’t shout, rant or jerk violently away from him. He did flinch and his face went very pale. But apart from that he kept calm, his jaws set.

At last Harry muttered, ‘Why couldn’t she pick someone else? Like Voldemort, for example. Or Grindelwald. I wouldn’t have given a rat’s arse about their souls. No, it had to be Dumbledore.’

‘I expect Dolores Umbridge was the kind of person to bear a grudge,’ Severus commented.

Harry snorted. ‘You can say that again.’ His gaze strayed to the Resurrection Stone. ‘Bloody hell.’

Severus must have tugged at their joined hands unconsciously.

‘If you need to pace…’ Harry echoed Severus’ earlier offer.

‘As a matter of fact,’ he admitted, ‘I would appreciate that. There are numerous questions we have to discuss yet. I do need to think.’

They marched a few paces, Severus in the lead, Dobby trudging along behind them, then stopped. When they turned, Harry winced. Severus paused, frowning. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘Well,’ Harry said with a sheepish expression. ‘The new cut’s quite shallow, sir. But it does sting when my sleeve rubs over it.’

‘Why didn’t you say something?’ Severus asked irritably. ‘Hold out your arm and let me heal that.’

‘Thanks.’

They continued pacing in tense silence, circling the Resurrection Stone repeatedly.

At last Severus began to fire off questions with every step. Step, question, step, question, an incessant rhythm: ‘Why did Umbridge set up the leeching spell like that? Did she intend to destroy the known universe or was she just too damn dim-witted to set up her own curse properly? Who were the Necromancers with her? Where did she find them? How did she make them help her? Or …’ He halted suddenly. ‘How did they force her to help them?’

‘Last but not least,’ Harry put in helpfully, ‘Where are the other half of the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand? Oh, and when we’re already at it…who is currently the Owner of the Elder Wand?’ Then he added dryly, ‘And once we’ve answered all of those questions, I’d be curious about how you turn stone into gold.’