"Did I know, in my heart of hearts, what Gellert Grindelwald was? I think I did, but I closed my eyes." – Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, chapter 35)

— CHAPTER SEVEN —

Brilliant Fools

"Miss Granger, please sit down."

She perched nervously on the edge of one of the plush chairs facing the Headmaster's desk, clenching her shaking hands tightly on her lap.

"Would you like a lemon drop?"

Hermione shuddered as he offered her the bowl of tooth-rotting concoction of sugar and acid. "No, thank you. I don't eat sweets."

"Pity. They are among my favourite of life's little pleasures."

"My parents are dentists, sir. They would be quite horrified if I suddenly started ignoring everything they taught me about caring for my teeth."

"Ah, but in the wizarding world, repairing teeth is much simpler and less painful than the Muggle science of dentistry. Such indulgence therefore has a far lesser price."

She blushed at the reminder that there still were things she tended to forget because she hadn't been raised in the wizarding world.

"Is there something you wished to discuss, Miss Granger?"

"I... yes, professor, there is. It's about that night at the Department of Mysteries..."

He nodded, as if he already knew. Maybe he did. But it did not excuse her from doing what she knew was right.

She had come prepared to confess her crime, and possibly condemn herself to a fate she considered worse than death, because it was the right thing to do and she was a Gryffindor and proud of it.

Dumbledore held up his hand. "Before we continue, please allow me to inform you of what occurred after your escapade at the Ministry of Magic."

Hermione sat back in her chair, ducking her head.

"I was lucky enough in my timing to find Lord Voldemort in the Atrium when I entered it. Invisibility spells, no matter how powerful, do not fool me, you understand. I engaged him in a duel to stall him until the arrival of the Minister, who was being woken at an ungodly hour by my messengers.

"Now, it is conceivable that the shock of seeing Lord Voldemort with his own eyes after believing him quite dead would have altered the Minister's opinions on some matters. When I spoke to him in his office a short time afterwards, he seemed more amenable to my suggestions than he had been for some time, and this was a predictable consequence of witnessing Lord Voldemort's continuing survival.

"However, imagine my surprise when, before I even had the opportunity to open my mouth, I was treated to a resolute defence of you and your friends, Miss Granger, and a plea that the group of you not be expelled from Hogwarts nor otherwise punished for your actions."

He gazed at her over his half-moon spectacles. There was no reprobation in his expression, only a thoughtful curiosity. "After the Minister's atrocious treatment of Harry this year, I thought it quite strange."

Hermione almost squirmed in her chair. "Very strange, professor." She managed to keep her face neutral.

"One must never give up hope, but I find it unlikely that our Minister has finally learned to think for himself. There is a saying in the Muggle world about old dogs and new tricks, if my memory is not deceiving me." He looked at her questioningly.

Hermione nodded, unable to prevent a slight smile of amusement.

Dumbledore smiled back, his sky-blue eyes twinkling shrewdly. "I suspect you hold the missing piece of the puzzle that is our Minister's sudden change of heart. Would you be kind enough to share it? After all, as the Muggles believe, confession is good for the soul."

She took a deep breath. "Minister Fudge is just doing what he has always done: letting his advisors tell him what to think. Someone he trusts interceded for us instead of against us, for a change."

"And why would this person have done so?"

"Because... because I asked him to, and because he owes me a debt, of sorts, for a... a favour I did for him. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, professor."

He nodded gravely, as if she had confirmed something he already suspected. "May I assume this advisor the Minister trusts is a Death Eater?"

"Yes, professor. You already know, don't you?"

"You have many skills, Miss Granger, but Occlumency is not among them. Continue with your story, please."

"I... what I meant to tell you is... I lied, professor. The Death Eaters didn't force me to give them the prophecy. I wasn't under the Imperius Curse, nor was I Confunded or coerced in any way."

There was no surprise on Dumbledore's face. He was listening attentively, his expression calm. He gestured with his hand as if to say, go on.

"It was my idea to make Harry give me the prophecy, and I gave it to Lucius Malfoy of my free will. Am I going to be expelled?" She wanted to cringe at the very idea. It was still, in her opinion, a fate worse than death.

"What reason would there be for you to be expelled? I am certain that you know the Hogwarts school rules nearly as well as I do. So tell me, have you committed an expulsion-worthy violation of the school rules?"

There were few: failing all exams or directly or indirectly killing a fellow student.

"No, I haven't. But then..." She felt a twinge of visceral fear. There was only one thing worse than expulsion: Azkaban. "Am I going to be arrested?"

"That would require that you have broken one of the Ministry's laws. As I have informed you, the Minister is determined not to prosecute any of the property destruction caused by yourself and your friends at the Department of Mysteries."

"I helped the Death Eaters. That's a serious crime."

"Only if the person you helped is proven in a court of law to be a Death Eater. Fortunately for you, no one has ever been able to accomplish that," Dumbledore said wryly. He gave her a contemplative look. "I have never known you to be a foolish witch, Miss Granger. I am certain you had a good reason for your actions."

"I did it to save his life. The other Death Eaters thought Voldemort was going to kill him if he didn't get the prophecy. I couldn't let that happen, sir. I – I love him."

The words seemed to hang ominously, shamefully in the air. She stared at the floor.

"I am not angry with you, Miss Granger, nor am I disappointed."

She looked up in confusion.

"Do not misunderstand me. I disapprove of your actions; helping Lord Voldemort, no matter how indirectly, is foolish and reprehensible. However, one must consider the motive behind the action. In your case, there could not have been a purer motive.

"You behaved as a true Gryffindor in a situation with no easy way out. To borrow an expression from the Muggles, you were placed between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between two people you care about. Any choice you could have made placed either of them in great danger.

"In such a situation, making any choice at all takes great courage. You opted for the choice that in your estimation carried the lesser risk – a mature reasoning most wizards and witches your age would not have been capable of. Many are not capable of it at any age.

"You followed your heart. That, Miss Granger, goes a long way towards excusing your actions."

"But it was dishonest. I tricked Harry."

"Sometimes," Dumbledore said gravely, "doing what is right requires that we resort to distasteful, unethical methods. Despite the technicalities, what you did was an act of kindness and selfless courage. An act that may, perhaps, have consequences you did not imagine at the time. Consequences we will all be thankful for."

"What do you mean, professor?"

"You have researched, have you not, the ideology behind pure-blood supremacist movements such as the Death Eaters?"

She did not even question how he knew. Dumbledore was an amazing wizard. He knew everything.

"I wanted to understand the discrimination against Muggle-borns..."

"Quite reasonable. One would have simply assumed you were following the wise Muggle saying 'know thine enemy', if you hadn't focused your research on the past and family of one Death Eater rather than all of them."

She blushed.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, based on what you discovered in your research, why do the Death Eaters support Lord Voldemort's extremist goals?"

"Because they believe Muggles and Muggle-borns are inferior."

"Exactly. And why do they believe this? What are ingredients that give rise to prejudice?"

"Ignorance," she said quickly, thrilled that he was testing her knowledge and expecting her to be able to meet the challenge. "Fear of the unknown. They don't know anything about Muggles other than what's in wizarding history books... even the Muggle Studies textbook is full of outdated rubbish."

She clapped her hand to her mouth, mortified, realising she had implicitly insulted a professor. But Dumbledore looked amused, and just indicated to continue.

"The Death Eaters don't know any Muggles or Muggle-borns, or they would have seen they aren't so different from pure-blood witches and wizards," she said, and her eyes widened in realisation, grasping the point Dumbledore had been guiding her towards with clever pointed questions, in true Socratic style. "So when I helped Mr Malfoy, when I risked everything to save his life, I challenged everything he thought he knew about Muggle-borns."

"Indeed, there could not have been a more powerful attack upon his beliefs. I suspect he shall find it more difficult to scorn selflessness and bravery when he is the one benefiting from them, or to see Muggle-borns as less than human when it was the kindness of a Muggle-born that spared him the wrath of Lord Voldemort, providing assistance when he most needed it."

"But professor, I think he has decided to see me as an exception, rather than change his beliefs about Muggle-borns in general. He has convinced himself I can't be a Muggle-born. He used Legilimency on me, and what he saw made him realise how good I am at magic. He thinks it must mean I have wizard ancestors. I..." she looked down, embarrassed, "I should have argued more."

"A predictable denial, flimsy enough to be eroded by nothing more than the passing of time. The day will come when he will no longer be able to close his eyes to the truth of your blood status, but you must have patience, Miss Granger. It takes time to move mountains, and it takes longest of all to move mountains of the mind.

"You shall also find that having a Death Eater of such high rank owe a wizard's debt to you may provide benefits when you least expect it," Dumbledore said shrewdly. "If what I remember about Lucius Malfoy still holds true, his view on such matters is quite old-fashioned. Whereas most wizards nowadays would minimise the importance of such a debt, he will seek to free himself from it by returning the favour. This may come to mean a substantial advantage in the war against Voldemort that may even, in the end, be more than worth the loss of the prophecy."

Hermione's eyes widened, a desperate hope rising within her. "You really think so, professor? You think he might help the Light side? Even... even become a spy like Professor Snape?"

"That, only time shall tell us, Miss Granger. But I can guarantee it will not be in Voldemort's interest to have followers indebted to a friend of Harry Potter."

"Professor... I asked Mr Malfoy why he followed Voldemort. He said the question is moot because those who join the Death Eaters and then change their minds are murdered. Do you think... Could he have meant that he no longer really wants to follow Voldemort? That he would change sides if he could?"

"It is a valid possibility. We must never give up hope."

On this, Hermione and Dumbledore agreed perfectly. Some would call them idealistic, but it was just part of who they were. They believed in giving chances and always trying to see the best in people.

"Sir... Harry can't know what I did. It would hurt him terribly. It's the last thing he needs now, on top of what the prophecy says. He's still trying to come to terms with that."

"I agree," Dumbledore said sombrely. "You must keep this a secret from Harry for his own good. No matter how much you may wish to be truthful with him and ask for his forgiveness, you must refrain from doing so at this time, for his sake.

"You have more questions, I presume. Oh, no, an inquisitive nature is nothing to be ashamed of. To the contrary, it is those who do not ask questions who stagnate in their ignorance. Ask, please."

"It's just... I don't... sir, how can you be so understanding? Mr Malfoy has done terrible things. It is wrong of me to love him. It makes me a bad person, a bad friend. How can you not judge me?"

"Love makes fools of the best and brightest of us. It is a lesson I learned personally." He gazed at her in a way that made her feel X-rayed. "I believe," he said slowly, "it is appropriate that I now tell you a story from my own past. You must have wondered why I have no known companion, nor have I ever had one..."

True, history books didn't mention Dumbledore ever being married or having a romantic relationship with anyone. Hermione couldn't deny it had stirred her curiosity.

From a cabinet behind his desk, he withdrew an obsidian stone bowl etched with runes. Hermione could read the ones on the side facing towards her: kenaz, dagaz, ethel, ansuz. Knowledge, clarity, preservation, insight. This had to be the Pensieve she had heard about from Harry.

At a tap of Dumbledore's strange, bone-like wand, a translucent, ghostlike image rose out of the bowl like smoke from a fire. It depicted a pair of young wizards holding hands.

One she instantly recognised as a younger Dumbledore, despite the lack of spectacles, the straight nose, and the waist-length auburn hair.

The other wizard had curly golden-blond hair and a devilish grin filled with a darker, more dangerous brand of mischief than the Weasley twins'. It reminded her of Lucius Malfoy's malice when he was making a cruel joke at someone's expense. The wizard's posture also reminded her a little of Mr Malfoy: it seemed as if he was looking down at the whole world with contempt. Hermione was almost sure this was a Dark wizard.

"When I was your age, I was in many ways like you, Miss Granger."

Hermione snapped abruptly out of her fascinated observation of the mysterious blond wizard. Her? Here was the greatest wizard of modern times, and he was comparing himself to her?

"A Gryffindor; best in my class; my school marks broke records. I was precocious and brilliant, an intellectual who valued pursuits of the mind over those of the heart. And so I was woefully unprepared for my first foray into the realm of romantic love. I fell hard and fast, with catastrophic consequences, for the worst possible candidate, but also the only possible candidate: the one person who was truly my match, my equal in intellect, talent, and power. A young wizard who had been as much of a prodigy at Durmstrang as I was at Hogwarts."

Hermione stiffened in surprise, thinking of Viktor... and of what his school was renowned for: its in-depth teaching of the Dark Arts. So she had guessed right: the young blond man was a Dark wizard.

"Whereas the branch of magic that was my specialty was Transfiguration, his was –"

"Dark magic?" she couldn't resist volunteering the answer she had guessed.

"Indeed, Miss Granger. We were as similar as we were different, as two opposite poles of the same planet. And if we stood together, dark and light united in pursuit of a common goal and a shared passion for magic, we could have been an unstoppable force for change. Together, with our exceptional minds and talents, no force, no institution, no opponent could have stood against us. We were going to transform the wizarding world and its relationship with the Muggles."

He closed his eyes. "It was, of course, nothing more than youthful foolishness, a brief departure from sanity. Two months of madness ending in tragedy, followed by a lifetime of regret, grief, and shame."

"What happened?" she asked sympathetically.

She could imagine how someone who was as much of a light wizard as Dumbledore, and so magically powerful, would clash with a Dark wizard of, as it sounded, a similar power level. Their fights had to be terrifying to behold.

An unbelievable suspicion stirred at the back of her mind as she began to put together the puzzle pieces Dumbledore had given her and what she had read about wizarding history. But Hermione dismissed the conclusion towards which her deductive reasoning pointed. It was too farfetched, too scandalous. It couldn't possibly be true.

"Our goals did not match as perfectly as we had assumed, naively, in the excitement of young passion. You see, my Dark friend believed wizards were innately superior to Muggles, and he wanted us to rule the Muggles openly instead of hiding from them. For a time, to my great shame, I agreed."

He bowed his head and briefly hid his face in his bony hands, while Hermione stared at him with wide eyes.

"He had the unique ability, by his mere presence, to bring forth the very worst in me, and it was an enthralling experience. Had he not fled, I question whether I could have found the will to walk away from him."

Hermione thought of Dobby, Hagrid, Buckbeak and Ginny. She thought of those Lucius Malfoy had harmed out of gratuitous cruelty or ruthless opportunism, and how easy it was to forget them in his presence when he was being nice to her. Would she be able to walk away from him?

"In my arrogance and naivety," Dumbledore continued, "I was seduced by his vision of a magical utopia, wizards ruling benevolently over the Muggles like some sort of gods, a welfare state providing magical solutions to the evils of poverty, disease, and violence. A perfect world; happiness for all, miraculously engineered by magic... by us, the two most powerful wizards of our generation."

Hermione gasped. Albus Dumbledore, a former pure-blood supremacist?

But you're a half-blood, she wanted to say.

But so was Voldemort. It meant nothing.

"However, as I would later find out, my partner in this egomaniacal fantasy had darker plans for the Muggles. His prejudice did not end at merely looking down upon them in condescension. He hated them, and found pleasure in their suffering. So when a great war broke out among them, he saw it as an opportunity to eliminate many of them without the risk of it being traced back to him. He hid his disgust for the Muggles and allied himself with the worst Muggle of all, providing magical protection and assistance to help this Muggle remain in power and survive many heroic attempts at ending his life and his carnage, which numbered in millions.

"My former friend thought it a brilliant scheme, culling the Muggle population to make it easier for wizards to control. Of course, by this time, I had not been in contact with him in decades, ever since a tragedy in my family that had been precipitated by his curse-happy disposition."

Hermione stared, too shocked to even ask questions. She had studied wizarding and Muggle history and how they intersected during the second World War. She knew who was the Dark wizard Dumbledore was talking about. There was only one possibility.

She could not believe her ears.

"Even at the height of his power, he never attempted to conquer Britain, because he knew I would be waiting to meet him at the shore, to end his campaign of terror once and for all. I was the only one with the power to do so. We were equally matched still, as we always had been. He did not come, and I...

"I was aghast at the mass suffering he was enabling and causing, and yet I dithered, longer than conscionable by any standards, while innocents were dying every day, before traveling to the continent to confront him. A cowardly delay for which I shall never forgive myself.

"Even as I fought him as an enemy, and defeated him, and no matter how much blood stained his hands, or how many decades passed, to my utmost shame, I never stopped loving him. And as long as my soul exists in this world or in any other, I never shall." He raised his hand to his chest, over his heart, as if making a vow.

"Such is the frightful, wonderful power of love, the greatest and most terrible magic of all. I hope, Miss Granger, that your love for a Dark wizard will have a happier ending."

Hermione blinked away tears. "That was such a sad story. I'm sorry, sir."

"I appreciate your sympathy."

She didn't ask who the Dark wizard was. Dumbledore had told the story with enough detail that left no doubt as to his identity: Gellert Grindelwald.

"You understand now why, ever since my first experience, I have kept a strict distance from entanglements of the heart."

"But that's such a long time to be alone. It must be awful! How can you stand the loneliness?"

He smiled sadly. "The same way you can, Miss Granger. The same way we all learn to, when our hearts choose to long for the unattainable. We fill the space with other pursuits, intellectual ones in my case. The quest for collecting and sharing knowledge, the championing of worthy causes, the comforting joys of friendship, of culture, music and the arts."

And Hermione was overcome with an overwhelming sympathy for this great wizard, so powerful, so admired, so kind, yet so sad and lonely on the pedestal where his knowledge and power had trapped him far above everyone else in the world. He was brilliant and wise, tolerant and understanding even of his enemies. So then why...

"Professor, why does Mr Malfoy hate you so much?"

"Ah, I believe that would be due to a combination of ideological and personal reasons. One would assume he does not appreciate my stance on Muggle rights and the so-called purity of blood. But I am afraid he did not begin to display such open antagonism towards me until his seventh year at Hogwarts. It appears he was unable to forgive my selection of Amos Diggory instead of him for the position of Head Boy."

"Oh." Hermione had to smile at that. It did sound like Mr Malfoy to perceive such a thing as a personal slight and to keep a grudge for so long.

"I trust that I need not remind you the information about my past that I have shared with you today is for your ears only. It would become a dangerous weapon in the hands of Lord Voldemort and the Ministry."

"I promise, professor, your secrets are safe with me. Would you like a magical oath?"

"Shall I assume you are not referring to the Unbreakable Vow, as it requires a third party as bonder?"

Hermione looked away contritely. Other oaths of secrecy were Dark magic. "I..."

Dumbledore gave her a conspiratorial smile. "Lucius is mistaken in believing it possible to hoodwink the defences Hogwarts has against Dark material being mailed to students. But I suspect you shall need this forbidden knowledge in the coming times. In your capable hands, I have no fear of it being used for evil.

"There is no need for oaths today, Miss Granger. Your word is sufficient for me. You are a witch of honour, a credit to the House of Gryffindor."

Hermione's cheeks warmed at the praise, but she felt she didn't deserve it. "I lied to Harry. There was no honour in that."

"Your remorse is to your credit, but do not let it consume you. When there is no ideal solution, when the choice is between two evils, when the best we can do is take the path that leads to lesser harm, it takes great strength of character not to be shattered by our decisions. It is strength that I am confident you possess."

"I'm not so sure, sir. I had a nightmare last night about what could have happened if I had misjudged the risks. If I'd been wrong in my assumptions about the prophecy..."

"And that is the difference between us and Lord Voldemort: that we doubt ourselves, and are haunted by our choices. It is not that we are incapable of making unpleasant choices when we must."

She remembered Mr Malfoy's cryptic smile when she had said, I just did what had to be done. "He – Mr Malfoy said something similar. He remarked on how pragmatic I was. He seemed surprised by it."

"Few wizards and witches learn so young that sometimes our methods matter less than our goals. Certain ends are important enough to justify that we resort to questionable means to achieve them."

"The greater good," she whispered.

Dumbledore seemed to flinch, his gaze breaking away from hers. It was shocking to see a wizard over a century older than her look away in shame from her.

She said hesitantly, "It was in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. Grindelwald's slogan..."

"One of my contributions to his ideology," Dumbledore confessed grimly, staring down at his desk. "His every use of it felt like a well-earned slap in my face. You do not judge me, Miss Granger?"

"No, sir. Everyone makes mistakes. You were young; you didn't know anything about Muggles... I'm sure you had good reasons for thinking like you did."

"No one can ever judge me as harshly as I judge myself."

"That's not fair. You didn't know what Grindelwald was going to do. No one can see the future, not even you, sir."

"I should have known. I was the most brilliant wizard of my time, even then. Many called me a prodigy of previously unseen talents, a new Merlin. My mind was sharp enough to know, but it was my heart that blinded me."

"Sir, I mean no offence, but... like you just said... your remorse does you credit, but don't let it consume you."

That startled a chastised smile out of him. "You are quite right, Miss Granger. Thank you. Sometimes we need the young to remind us of the obvious, just as they need us to learn from our experience." He stood up with a rustling of his flamboyant robes, and clasped her hand in both of his. "Do not repeat my mistakes, Miss Granger," he said with suppressed urgency and profound compassion. "Do not let your heart blind you to the true nature of the one you love."

Hermione didn't think she needed the warning. She didn't think she would ever be able to forget about Lucius Malfoy's true nature when he kept shoving it in her face like a badge of honour, proudly demonstrating at every opportunity how much he liked power and the Dark Arts. It was as if he found cruel satisfaction in reminding her what a bad person she was for loving him.

"I honestly don't think that's a possibility, professor. He won't let me forget what he is. He's too proud of it."

Author's note: Greetings from Niagara Falls, where I am vacationing this weekend. Thanks for being patient with me while I was struggling to finish law school. I'm finally DONE and it feels like emerging from a long, dark tunnel. Three years of hell just so I can write the letters J.D. after my name. It's "only" been 20 years from the day my scrawny seven-year-old self announced to my parents at dinner, "I'm going to be a lawyer!". Not a lawyer yet, and not even sure anymore that I want to be one. Moral of the story: don't base career choices on kiddie logic.

Thank you for all the reviews! You guys rock.

I hope I didn't do too badly in my first serious attempt at writing Dumbledore. My version of him is based on JK Rowling's, of course, but it's also inspired by arguably the best Dumbledore fanfic I've ever read, despite technically not being a Dumbledore fanfic: The One He Feared by Taure, a fellow lawyer-in-training.

In the next chapter: the train ride back from Hogwarts, and Lucius and Draco finally have that conversation.