Chapter 17 — The White Wizard's Vow and the Scarred BoyLiteral
Flitwick blanched. "Harry—you insulted Professor Snape?"
Harry snorted. "He tugged my beard over and over—how not curse him?"
"Come with me, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, anger flaring. "I believe Professor Dumbledore will pass a proper judgment."
"I have business with him too," Harry said.
They went to the Headmaster's office. McGonagall knocked, pushed the door, and bowed. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. I've brought Mr. Potter."
Dumbledore—white beard, half-moon spectacles—smiled kindly. "Thank you, Minerva. Let me speak to Harry alone."
She bowed and left.
Harry scanned the office: walls full of moving portraits—former headmasters. The Sorting Hat on the left cabinet; on the right, a gilded perch with a red-gold bird dozing.
Harry marveled. The bird looked noble—long crimson-gold feathers like a tuft of living flame. What creature was this?
Seeing his gaze, Dumbledore smiled. "A phoenix. His name is Fawkes.
"Sit, Harry, don't be formal. Have you eaten? Would you like a cockroach cluster?"
He held up a jar writhing with live insects. Harry thought, For a kindly old man he keeps a jar of tea-grubs for dessert. Some strange bloodline?
He bowed. "Thank you, professor, but I've no appetite."
"Then I'll enjoy them myself." Dumbledore popped a few into his mouth and laced his fingers. "I meant to discuss you and Severus—but he's not here yet. Why don't we talk about you first?
"Minerva says your scar hurt."
Harry countered, "If the Headmaster would question me, he must first answer me: do you know disaster hangs over Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore raised a brow. "Why do you say that?"
"Gringotts was robbed two months ago—how can you not know? What was in that gray pouch?"
"Ah, Harry, I truly can't tell you—at least not yet…"
"That thief's still at large. If he comes to Hogwarts, how will you keep us safe?"
"Don't worry—the professors are strong wizards."
"What if he's already inside, laying ambush? How do we respond?"
"Trust the school's protections, Harry. I won't let any student be harmed."
Harry's words were swords; Dumbledore parried with dough. He waved at last. "Too many questions. Let me ask one: does your scar truly hurt?"
Harry was fed up. "Even if it does, I won't die."
"…Anything else happen?"
Harry looked about. "Ah! The professor asks so many questions—I forget."
Dumbledore rubbed his brow under the glasses. What had the Dursleys done to him?
"Anything else, Harry?"
"You ask me to trust you," Harry said. "Then let me ask: will you swear?"
"I will," Dumbledore said at once, taking Harry's forearm. "I'll make an Unbreakable Vow—with Fawkes as witness.
"He can't wield a wand, but he can work a little magic."
An Unbreakable Vow is a binding magical contract under a witness. Break it and the backlash kills you—body and soul.
Seeing him pledge his life, Harry sobered. "If you don't fear death, I don't cling to life."
They gripped forearms; silver threads wound them. Dumbledore began to vow his life to protect Harry—
Harry cut him off. "You mistake me. Protect my brothers and sister."
Dumbledore frowned. "Your… brothers and sister?"
"Yes: Hagrid my brother, Hermione my big sister, Ron my brother. I can manage my own skin. Them—I cannot let go."
Dumbledore stared, then softened. "Oh, Harry. Forgive my misreading.
"You are a remarkable young wizard—and a trustworthy little savior."
"Don't call me savior," Harry said. "I can't play that role. I just mean to kill Voldemort and avenge my parents."
"And that," Dumbledore smiled, "is exactly what a savior would say."
They sealed the Vow. Only then did Harry describe the aching scar and nightmare.
Dumbledore shut his eyes, considered. "If it's only occasional, I don't see a serious problem."
He winked. "I think Severus is coming. Can you give an old man some face?"
The door banged open; Snape swept in, hair shiny with oil. "You wanted me—oh. Mr. Potter."
Seeing Harry, Snape's face changed. He glared at Dumbledore. "If this is about Potter, don't call it 'important'."
He turned to leave; Dumbledore called him back. "Severus, please. Let us talk."
The old headmaster hoped to mediate, to ease Harry and Snape's tensions. Before he could speak, Harry clasped his fists and bowed slightly.
The scarred lad, once a swaggering brute, now a courteous gentleman. Dumbledore's eyes widened; Snape's mind reeled. Why the bow—hear next time.
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