The announcement of the Yule Ball received very mixed results, largely split by gender. Ron and Harry shared a look of horror. Dancing? Girls? Was there anything more awful? Ron enjoyed ogling at ladies inappropriately, but the thought of anything further made his face burn with embarrassment and horror.
Nevertheless, that there were activities for those not willing to risk life and limb had the students discussing the event long into the evening that night. Dress robes were fawned over and mock duels were had until someone had set an armchair on fire and the prefects finally yelled at everyone to go to bed. Any uncomfortableness about strange professors and terrorist attacks was cast aside as everyone was swept up in the simple joys and stressors of teenage stuff.
Harry himself was happy being a normal child for a change - worrying about Quidditch and girls and homework - until he got a note from Dumbledore the following evening asking him to visit after dinner, reminding him that he was unworthy of simplicity.
"Harry, my boy, how are you doing?" The Headmaster said as Harry entered. He took a moment to survey the office and all the stern-faced portraits surrounding them. Fawkes the phoenix chirped at him from his stool and Harry gave the bird a little wave of greeting.
"Quite well, thank you, Professor. Hello, Fawkes." He sat in a fancy stuffed armchair across from the desk. Dumbledore gave him a polite smile and offered him some candy. "Might I ask why I'm here?"
"Of course, of course. I wanted to check in with you. How are you faring after the attack at the World Cup?"
"Well, I'm doing alright mostly, it's been upsetting to read about it in the papers." He said.
Dumbledore nodded somberly.
"Harry, I don't mean to upset you further, but I wanted to discuss the implications of the attack with you. Lord Voldemort is gaining power quickly. I am worried he may target you."
Harry nodded. "Sirius and mama both said that. But how would Voldemort regain his power? I thought he was dead?" He asked in his most innocent tone.
"Ah, now that is the right question to be asking, very well done, Harry." Harry waited a moment, but for some reason, Dumbledore did not elaborate. There was a clear difference between speaking with the Headmaster versus his parental figures. Why wasn't he communicating clearly? Sure, the man did not trust Harry, that was fair. But this Voldemort business directly involved Harry. Why were they bothering with this farce of a conversation?
"Have you any idea on how we can stop Voldemort from returning?" He tried.
"I have a great many ideas, but very few of them are tangible. That is why I called you here today, my dear boy. I would like to give you some private lessons this year."
"Lessons?" Harry asked, baffled at the thought. "About what?"
"Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that."
Harry considered slamming the man's head against the table until he spoke plainly. What sort of thing could he learn from Dumbledore? How to annoy Voldemort to death?
"About how to defeat Voldemort?" he probed. "Because Sirius had me running dueling drills all summer."
"It is certainly related to Voldemort."
"Well alright then, that could be useful. If I agree, will you answer my questions?" He asked flatly. Going along with whatever it was Dumbledore wanted was likely the only way to figure out what he was on about. That he had been advised to avoid the Headmaster like the plague… well. He was unlikely to kill Harry, they'd already determined that.
"All in good time, my boy!" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled very annoyedly, and Harry strongly considered murdering the man instead. "Now, come, let me show you -" and off into the memory of the Gaunts they went.
Dumbledore had planned a jaunt into the past for dramatic intrigue and to begin a very slow, chronological look into Tom Riddle's past. He'd seen so many young people ruined by war, James, Lily, and all the others they'd lost - Severus and Sirius as well. Darkness ruined and tainted a soul, and he could see so much goodness left in Harry. All Dumbledore could do was hope that by showing the boy the path of Tom Riddle, Harry would be convinced to not follow down that same route.
Harry, however, was rather sick of lectures on morality and instead discovered a little more than he was supposed to from the adventure. Dumbledore's shriveled hand, the Gaunt ring nestled onto a rotting finger. The faint, lingering curse of the horcrux long dead. The old man was gunning down the same path mama and Sirius were on. Dumbledore knew that horcruxes existed.
Harry pondered over what he'd been shown and told.
Was this a good or bad thing? How many did he know about? Did he suspect that Harry had created one? Under the table, he secured his signet ring into a pocket and prayed Dumbledore didn't have the same Dark magic sensing ability he had. Although surely he would have said something already? Or was he waiting… but for what? For Harry to tackle Voldemort for him?
"So, we're going to go through memories of Voldemort's ancestry? That will be relevant somehow?" He asked.
"Indeed Harry. I've uncovered some fruitful information in his past and I believe it will prove instrumental in defeating Voldemort."
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