Harry Potter and the Crucible of Light

Chapter Two: Pledges

Disclaimer: Sigh… Not mine,

A/N: Big thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter. I never believed until I started writing how much of a help reviews are. Particular thanks go to o&l, and to Chiara Crawford for pointing out some spelling mistakes. Once again, every comment is appreciated.

Change is a fickle thing. We fight it, we seek it, we relish it and we fear it, but none of us can escape it. The tears and smiles of a trillion generations are testament to its unchanging existence, a clever (or cruel, depending on your point of view) irony in its unyielding resistance to its own interjection: Change!

Change is a steadfast master, he and his brothers, Fear and Uncertainty, find everyman, riding steadily to the slow, steady beat of the clock. 'Tick! Tock!'

Harry Potter had faced many changes, from womb to world, infancy to childhood, muggle to wizard, but he now stood on the brink of still further change. He was not the kind of person afraid of change, per say, but the coming war, War! for Merlin's sake, was not a prospect that could be faced cheerily.

You wouldn't know that from Harry's face, however, as he walked slowly beside Albus Dumbledore. His was a mix of emotions, nervousness, excitement, and silly giddiness, the disease of adrenaline junkies the world over. One might have made a clear case that Harry was being foolish, after all he was not in the process of risking life and limb, but Harry was sure he was reacting appropriately, thank you very much. A meeting with his Headmaster, who might have been the most powerful individual on the entire planet, about him was enough to get anyone excited.

As they calmly passed through the hallways of the ancient castle, Harry was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. 'I wonder if I did anything wrong? Maybe the minister has come to arrest me? No, Dumbledore still believes me. He wouldn't let that happen. Does Dumbledore still believe me?' A sinking worry came at this, but he shook it off. 'Nah… I would have known if he changed his mind about that! The Duel! Of course! I'm probably in trouble for destroying that hallway. But Dumbledore wanted to meet with me before I got into that fight with Moody. Puzzlement swept over him as he reflected on this newest refutation.

Maybe it was about his family? 'Are the Dursly's hurt?' He could barely contain his excitement at this thought. 'Had they kicked him out? He would have to stay at Hogwarts! Harry did not know how close to the mark he had come with that thought, not however for the reasons he speculated.

"Peculiar place, Hogwarts, aye Harry?" said Dumbledore, stirring him from his private speculation.

Nodding, Harry waited for the great wizard to continue. However, his counterpart seemed perfectly content with silence.

Harry took a minute to reflect on his companion. He was tall, the kind of tall that one finds difficult to get out of one's head, even several minutes after an encounter. He held himself straight. The countless years had not seemed to make any effect on the old wizard's posture. He wore flowing purple robes, in which clouds fought and lighting flashed. Great curtains of electricity tore through the storm depicted upon his apparel, dashing the clouds to nothing. In contrast to that riling mass, his long beard was pure white, a mustache stalagmite that quivered in response to his moods. His head was graced by sparse white hair, an artifact of long centuries. A long nose, gold framed spectacles, and two enormous bushy white eyebrows, that seemed to defy magic itself in the range of expressions that they made. He had weathered the seas of age, and the lines of that great battle accented what had once been smooth skin. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously, as he smiled warmly at Harry, mouth crinkling in a way that had become a symbol of the entire wizarding world.

"Alastor has been as enthusiastic as usual I see." Said Dumbledore as he glanced over Harry's sweat bathed attire.

"Yes professor, but you wouldn't believe what he showed me! I mean, I can't do it myself yet, but some of it I did not even know I could do until he showed me." Harry replied enthusiastically, forgetting his brief meditations.

"Yes, he can have that effect on people. I believe many Aurors would be able to tell you similar tales. He has never been afraid of the unknown, no… I do not believe he has ever been afraid. He is one of the few, Harry."

As Dumbledore said this, he seemed to be lost in memory, his eyes took on a distant quality and buried themselves in some far-distant world.

Struck by sudden curiosity, Harry asked "How did you meet Professor Moody sir?"

Dumbledore glanced at him, he felt himself almost being weighed, tested to prove his worthiness of such a tale. After what felt like an hour, but was in reality no more then a few seconds, Dumbledore smiled once more and began his tale.

"Well you see Harry, it was during the muggle first world war. A dark wizard was assisting the Irish rebels and the Prime Minister was afraid that all magical people would destroy his government. Our mission to destroy the dark wizard was a sort of test of loyalty. I was a hit wizard at the time, had been for about twenty years, and I was hired to assist a team of Aurors capture or eliminate…

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(Flash Back)

"Aurors form up!" shouted the tough voice of Vernon Miller.

They were camped on a broad green plain, set right upon the edge of a cliff, looking out across a shallow valley. Ireland was amazing though Albus, there must be a hundred and fifty different shades of green dappling the countryside. The sky was clearer then anything he had ever seen and the very air had the taste of magic on it.

Of course that could be because of where they were. Not a mile and a half from the hill of Tara, where the king of magic had been crowned, and would be again. Buried there was the Lia Fail, the stone of destiny that would cry aloud when it was touched by the rightful king. It was a place of magic, the greatest nexus point in the world, where energy just seemed to flow out of the ground itself.

The entire country of Ireland was blessed by its presence. The magic was so powerful that muggles could feel it. So a thousand years ago they had built a, nearly, complete replica five miles away from the original site. The first recorded use of the Fidelus charm was here, except magic itself was the secret keeper. Every being on the planet that possessed magic knew the secret, but not one without it did.

The headquarters of the International Confederation of Wizards was here, in fact the largest magical settlement in the entire world was built around Temair. They were all waiting for the return of the king, who would rejuvenate the magic of the world.

The British ministry had deployed eight Aurors here last night. When they had arrived, they had contracted with second class hit wizard Albus Dumbledore, for ward breaking and other… duties.

Their mark was an insane dark wizard by the name of Roger Federov. He had been one of the Lieutenants of Aedina, a Dark Lady that had been defeated thirty years ago. When his master fell to the wand of Mark Bones, Federov had gone insane. He only goal was destruction, and destruction was what he was trying to create. By destabilizing the United Kingdom he hoped to prolong the cataclysm taking place on the continent. Auror Team Grey was there to see that he failed.

As Grey leader Miller began to brief his team on conditions and estimated resistance, Albus go to down to business. His job was to locate Federov's base of operations, punch a hole in the wards and get himself and the Aurors inside of them.

He sighed as he pulled his magic out into his hands, the swirling white seemed to stir in response to the magically saturated atmosphere. Albus quieted it before he began to stretch it into an oval. Once he finished that, he began to sweep his hands across it, stretching and bending the fabric, it almost resembled the actions of a pizzeria worker. Satisfied, Albus pulled a tendril of energy and from it and connected it with the humming magic of the Tara nexus. As the oval stabilized, Albus pulled a piece of hair from his pocket and tossed it into the sphere, which immediately turned a vibrant orange, and began to spin.

Stepping back he sighed, memories returning to the man who had taught him how to use a nexus as a giant flashlight, scouring the world for a magical signature. It was draining, but it was perhaps the best method in the world for what he had in mind. Aside from the Fidelus, there was no defense against this method. Unfortunately, only a handful of wizards were strong enough to use it.

The Aurors formed around him, waiting for the magic to work. He noticed one of the youngest eyeing it with interest, it was clear as day that he wanted to learn to cast a nexus lens. He was short with dirty blond hair and a face pocked marked by the scars of puberty, but the ferocity in his eyes was tangible. He had a wild look that Albus saw might be as dangerous to him as it was to his enemies. At the same time, the hit wizard saw that he was the strongest member of the Auror team. The boy and Miller were the only two Sorcerers in the team of Warlocks.

The lens stopped and Albus took a deep breath. He unshrinking a hoop from his pocket, he fitted it around the still oval of energy before jabbing his wand into the swirling mass of energy. Quickly, he discerned the nature and strength of the target wards and cast counter charms over the oval black surface. Stepping back he took a deep breath before whispering, "Fidat!"

The magic began to unwind as it sped through the ether, attacking the wards and tunneling a passageway between the two places. As the magic turned black and began to drain rapidly, Albus slashed his wand diagonally and chanted "Portus!"

The remaining magic rapped itself around the hoop before sinking into it. With nothing left to hold it in the air, the dark black oval fell to the ground before Albus grabbed it.

Smiling, the hit wizard motioned for the Aurors to grasp it. He nodded toward Miller, they were ready. Glancing around himself, the grizzled Auror nodded.

"Alright people, look alive. Were gonna hit this place with everything we got. This Federov bastard doesn't stand a chance. You're the toughest, meanest sons of bitches this git has ever seen. Gloria, your running healing, Justin, you have team two, Albus, Alastor, on me were going after the wanker personally. Everyone else, you know your places. On three people! One… Two… Three-"

And with a clap of thunder and a flash of lighting, eight of Britain's best Aurors and Hit-Wizard second class Albus Dumbledore disappeared.

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"It was a great battle Harry, Federov had triple the number of supporters that we had thought, and we lost a lot of great people that day. Neville's great aunt Gloria died that day, and so did Vernon Miller, he taught me how to duel in his fight against Federov. Miller killed him, but not before he was mortally wounded himself. Alastor lost his leg to a flesh eating curse, he almost didn't make it. Five of the Aurors died on that mission." Dumbledore smiled, his story finished as he turned to Harry, "Does that answer your question?"

"It does sir, I'm sorry for disturbing you." Harry murmured, shocked at the story of Dumbledore's assault on the dark wizards base in the Orkney Islands.

"No need to be sorry, my boy, I had not thought of Vernon in some years, it does me good to remember him." The venerable wizard smiled, before continuing "I had seen him confront Aurors dealing with grief, I am quite sure that he would like us to remember him a hero then to run from his memory. Wise man, Vernon Miller, wise man indeed."

Harry nodded as he glanced down the corridor, the dark reds of sunset stained the walls of the chamber a red stronger, and more passionate then even the Gryffindor one that he cherished. Its dark embraced marked the very stones with the sun's defiance of night, and its prophecy of morning.

The pair stopped as they reached the gargoyle. Dumbledore gestured casually and the statue sprung aside. Harry gulped as the pair began to ascend the spiraling staircase, he was finely going to figure out what was going on.

Professor Dumbledore swept into his office and sank into the tall leather armchair behind his desk. Harry followed and sat in the plush seat that Dumbledore conjured with a flick of his wand. Nervously he glanced around the still office, noting the red and gold form of Fawkes, sleeping quietly on his perch. The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses were silent, pretending to sleep.

The Headmaster weaved his fingers together, and his eyes took on a grave expression as he looked over his glasses at Harry.

"I have called you here Harry, for an important purpose. I had hoped to spare you from it for a time, but alas events have forced my hand. Harry, I have called you tonight to test you." He said this with a grimace, as if this was something very painful.

"A test, sir?" Harry asked confusedly, racing to think of possible tests and ways to beat them. "Why am I to be tested?"

"I will not lie to you Harry" Dumbledore said gravely. "I might refuse you information, but I will not lie. I regret that this is one of those times." At this Dumbledore paused and his voice took on a new urgency, his eyes seemed to command Harry to look at them and his gaze was powerful deadly serious. "The future of the world is at stake Harry, Lord Voldemort has the power to destroy us all. Until the you pass the test, until you take your oath, it is a risk to trust you with anything."

"I would never tell Voldemort anything" Harry said angrily "You know that! He killed my parents, he killed Cedric, and I'll never help him."

"I never said you would, child" Dumbledore replied calmly "You do not have to speak for him to gain the information you carry. He has powers that you only dream in nightmares, and he will use every one of them to destroy us."

Dumbledore sighed. "We have an advantage this time at least. We know that he is coming. You warned the résistance and we will be ready for him. But it will be close a run thing, Harry, war is a nasty business and there are no guarantees in it." The great wizard's eyes seemed to fade from the present as he looked out the window. "We will lose friends, in horrible ways. You will see death, and you will cause it. There will be no compromise, and we will have to make and ask for great sacrifice if we are to prevail."

Harry was silent. His mind raced over his encounter with the Riddle, the golden cage, the unforgivable curses; Dumbledore was right, there would be no compromise in this fight. Harry thought of his friends and his world, he thought of little Laura and Cho Chang, Voldemort would destroy them all.

Glancing up from the desk that had held his gaze, Harry met Dumbledore's eyes. With determination and resolve flickering to life within him, he softly asked "What must I do sir?"

Harry did not notice it at the time, but at his words, Fawkes woke, the rubies of a famous blade began to glow, and countless instruments and gadgets sputtered into life.

"You have passed the first test" said Dumbledore. "It was a test of your will. You know the stakes, or at least you have some inkling of them. You know the costs, or at least you hold an idea of them. Yet you choose the narrow path none the less." Dumbledore's smile was warmer then Harry had remembered in a long time, though it fled as the old wizard spoke again. "A cruel profession that you have chosen, Harry, but a noble one, and the only one in which willingness is the sole test for entry. Martyrdom Harry, is the seed of every great movement."

Harry was unsure of what to make of that, but he knew at least that his resolve for action was undimmed. "Have I passed, sir?" Harry asked eagerly.

"A part Harry, you have passed a part. But two questions still remain for you." Dumbledore replied. He knitted his brows and his appearance softened, forming the image of the grandfather Harry had wished for when he was young, the storm was fierce, and his cupboard was dark. "Why do you fight Harry?"

Thoughts raced through the young wizard, dueling in rhetorical glory for supremacy, as his mind reverberated with the question that stamped itself into every fragment of his psyche, 'Why do you fight Harry?' 'For my friends' Harry thought quickly. 'Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, the Weaselys, I fight for them.'

"For my friends sir", Harry said contentedly, sure that his answer was correct.

Dumbledore frowned "You will risk all to destroy Voldemort, because your friends will? Do they control your actions so much Harry?"

"I would fight to protect them sir, from the world that Voldemort would create." Harry replied quickly.

"You are afraid of the consequences of Voldemort? Look at me Harry" at this Harry's eyes snapped onto the solid sapphire ones of the revered professor. "When your friends die Harry, and they will die, when you must let them die, for strategy or tactics, when the whole world stands against you, will you still fight Harry?" His voice was grave, and the temperature in the office dipped a few degrees at the stern voice of the great Light Lord.

Harry was still, his mind reeling at the thought his professor confronted him with. 'Would I fight Voldemort, just because of who he is? Just because of his evil? Would I spill my blood to defeat an idea? Yes.' The thought sprinted across the light years of the human mind, appeasing his conscience and stirring him to strength again.

Resolve stirred in Harry again, "I will die to end his evil sir, just because it's evil; just because it's wrong".

Anger flashed in the eyes of the Headmaster. "Anyone can die for something, everyone will die for something; real strength comes in resistance, it takes a special person to kill for something. Will you kill men, and lead your loved ones to death, to defeat an idea?"

Again swirling doubt beset Harry, but it was weaker this time, he had made the jump to an idea, and the philosopher in Harry would not let him run from the truth.

"Yes."

Again, the office stirred, as the objects therein responded to the declaration of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Then you pass the second test Harry." Dumbledore smiled, and decades of age seemed to slide from him in the act. "There is one more question you must answer, my child, how will you fight?"

"Hard?" Harry replied confusedly.

"That is evident from your will Harry, I mean to ask by what means, by what methods will you fight?" Dumbledore responded.

This confused Harry, why was this a test question? How would he fight? He was not sure how to respond. 'Uh…fight… fight… how would I fight? Well Voldemort will do whatever he can to kill me, so I guess I'll do whatever I can to kill him.'

As Harry said this, the great wizard frowned, "Whatever it takes, Harry? Would you use the Dark Arts to destroy Voldemort?"

Harry was unsure about how to respond this, but he replied anyway, "Voldemort will do anything to kill me, shouldn't I do anything to kill him?"

"Harry, there are acts you will have to do, terrible choices you must make, but to use the Dark Arts…" His voice dropped and octave as his words hammered themselves into Harry's mind, "there is no salvation there. The Dark Arts twist a person Harry, even if they could be used for good purpose, they take great evil to cast. You must hate, with all your soul, you must crave destruction, and you must wish to taste the screams of your victims. Using the Dark would not give victory to the Light; it would merely replace one Dark Lord with another."

"I wouldn't use the Dark Arts sir! I mean I would perform what I had to. I can't imagine when I would need to use the Dark Arts." Harry said this trying to make Dumbledore understand that Harry would never become the next Dark Lord.

"There will come a time, my boy, when you must either allow a great evil, or resort to the dark to stall it. No one can know their choice until the time is upon them." Dumbledore said gravely.

"Between what is right, and what is easy" Harry whispered, feeling as though he finely understood a grave truth. With his recognition, Fawkes trilled, and the office was filled with the sound of strength and the spirit of courage.

"Exactly, Harry, Exactly" The great wizard spoke with an air of finality, and Harry knew that the tests were now finished.

"Have I passed sir?" Harry asked quietly, "I tried my best, I really did; I want to fight him."

"You have my boy, at least as well as can be expected, under the circumstances." Dumbledore said, a jovial quality entering his eyes for the first time since their discussion had begun. "Now we must determine what you are to do."

The great wizard's eyes seemed to be weighting to choices, testing both in his mind, and finding no clear decision.

"You mentioned and oath… sir" Harry said seriously "must I take it now?"

"Yes, that is the next step." Dumbledore seemed to make up his mind, and he stood quickly. Grasping his hat, he motioned toward the young wizard. "Come Harry. Take hold of this, it will take us to where you must go."

Nervous at the prospect of another Portkey journey, Harry steeled himself before grasping the brim of the wide hat. As he did, the colors of the room swirled, and he felt an invisible hook jerk him forward by his navel.

With a roar the to companions disappeared from the Headmasters office, leaving a glowing sword and a waking phoenix.

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The teacher and student reappeared nearly five hundred miles west, at the home of the International Confederation of Wizards. Harry could feel the magic in the air, swirling just below the surface of reality, it was tangible and it nearly bowled him over.

"Welcome Harry, to the center of Magic on earth. We are standing adjacent to both the largest magical nexus point, and the largest light magic nexus point in the world." Dumbledore said, his tone once again filled with the mystery and power of a thousand generations of Light Lords.

"This is Tara, the place you were at with Professor Moody" Harry said, stitching together the clues within his mind.

"Yes Harry, this is Tara, and it is here that you will take your oath." The great wizard paused before he began to walk. "Follow me."

"Where are we going-"

Harry stopped as the world suddenly shifted and they appeared in a small building that resembled a cathedral with no roof.

"Magic here can sense your purposes, and assist or hinder you according to its choice. It is nearly alive here." Dumbledore paused before murmuring softly "it was… once."

Harry was unsure of what to make of that, but his curiosity at their new location got the better of him. Gesturing he asked. "Do people worship magic here?"

"NO! Light wizards have never worshiped magic Harry, and they never will. Magic is a tool, a powerful one yes, but a tool all the same. One should never confuse means and ends, my boy, some of the worst things in history have happened because of such confusion. No, this is merely the center of the light nexus. It is a place of meditation and sanctuary, nothing more and nothing less." He said this with a finality that would brook no argument, nor stand confusion. "We find and study our magic here, we do not worship it."

Harry was startled by the vehemence with which the old wizard spoke, but his curiosity still gnawed at him. "What are we here for then sir?" The young boy asked.

"We are here for you to swear your oath." Dumbledore replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh…" said Harry, suddenly feeling very stupid and very small.

Dumbledore led him into a small room adjacent to the atrium. It was a low chamber with viridian green walls, the color of the surrounding countryside, that seemed to pulse with the magic of the land. In the middle of the room stood a raised pedestal with two engraved hand prints on either side. Lit by torches, the whole space gave off a sense of deepest foreboding, Harry knew that the acts which took place within it were of the utmost importance and could not be reversed or revoked lightly.

"Kneel Harry" said Dumbledore as he gestured to the space before the stone. As Harry did so, he took his small hands and placed them on the groves in the stone. The stone was warm, and his hands locked into their places with a flash of yellow light. A sharp pain in the palm of his hands greeted him and he felt a small trickle of his blood trickle into the black stone.

"This stone is mythical Harry, it will bind you by your oath. It will know your purposes and hold you to them. But only to a truthful oath willingly given." Dumbledore explained.

"What will this do professor? How will this help?" Harry's curiosity, and fear of pain, replied.

"Oaths are powerful things. Magic respects them, it respects our choices. Here, at the greatest light nexus in the world, magic has been known to change the oath giver. As to why Harry: Any wizard, who has declared, for either light or dark, unlocks their potential. Deep magic is inaccessible to those to weak to choose. There are consequences yes, your magic will manipulate your emotions toward fulfilling your oath, as you age you will find it harder to lie and to sin." Dumbledore shifted gears as he began to explain the nature of the stone that Harry grasped. "The stone you touch responds to the ancient light oath. You will recite it, if you do not swear truthfully, the stone will release you, if you mean your oath, then the magic will respond."

"What will it do professor?" Harry asked somewhat truthfully.

"It never reacts the same way twice." Dumbledore stated emphatically. He continued "Are you ready?"

At Harry's nod, the aged Headmaster began. His voice deepened and took on a quality that sang with magic, making the ancient room quake. "Do you swear, Harry James Potter, that you will uphold the Good?"

With as much conviction as he could muster, Harry nodded and said "Yes."

"Do you swear," Dumbledore asked, the power rolling from his voice "Harry James Potter, that you will seek the Truth?"

Sounding braver then he felt, Harry again replied "Yes."

"Do you swear," the Grand Sorcerer began again, the room darkening and the air swirling as he did so, "Harry James Potter, to protect the Beautiful?"

The heat from the stone had been growing since they had began, and it was beginning to become unbearable to Harry, and the hum of the ambient magic felt like it was pounding itself into his skull, marking him as its heir. It was otherworldly and painful to say the least, and Harry wanted it to end on way or another.

With sweat beading on his brow, and desperation in his voice, Harry replied again "Yes."

Magic was tangible in the room, and Harry could feel it swirling around him, a cacophony of color, temperature, sound and fury, as the venerable leader of the light began again.

"Do you swear, Harry James Potter, on the life invested in you and by the choice gifted to you, to uphold your oath as long as you shall draw breath?"

The heat was unbearable to the young wizard, and the torches winked out of existence as magic manifested itself in the small chamber as a witness to the oath. The vortex whirled around him, negating gravity and rippling reality. Bolts of energy, pure magic, raced and dueled in the small space, nervous spectators to the choice of one small boy. Tension was manifest and time itself slowed to a trickle, the precipice was upon them and there was no turning back.

Harry could not stand it anymore. With his last strength he raised his voice and shouted, "I DO!"

The whirlpool faltered and exploded, nearly touching the walls of the small room, before it stopped, and slowly, so slowly it seemed to beggar the imagination, it spiraled back to the young wizard and sank into his chest. His death grip on the rock, which had previously saved him from the cataclysm of the mage storm, gave way, and as the energy struck him, it picked him up like a doll and through him into the wall of the chamber. The room was plunged into darkness as the magic left, and Harry knew no more for a little while.

A/N. Yeah Chapter 2 done! As always please read and review with your comments. I do not pretend to be a virtuoso of an author, so all comments are helpful.

Thanks for reading!

Eggy