Chapter 268: Harry's Choice
Dumbledore added,
"Besides, as an alchemist, he has many little inventions he crafted on a whim. They're quite fascinating."
Just as Phineas had predicted, Dumbledore also wanted Harry to spend the holiday at Nicolas Flamel's residence. On one hand, it was indeed the safest place—everything Phineas had deduced was accurate. On the other hand, Dumbledore hoped Harry could accompany Nicolas through his final days. Only by personally experiencing death and separation can someone come to treasure life, to understand love more deeply.
After all, Harry's training continued along a carefully designed path. Especially after confirming that Harry carried a fragment of Voldemort's soul, both Dumbledore and Phineas were intentionally guiding Harry to understand the importance of emotion—deepening his connections with others—so that he would not be easily swayed by the soul fragment and fall astray. However, every strength has a shadow. A deeper bond means a greater emotional stake. When loved ones are safe, those ties anchor a person to goodness. But when harm comes to them, that bond can become a driving force toward darkness.
Just after Dumbledore finished speaking, Harry's eyes brightened—it was obvious he wanted to go. Children are naturally curious; the more mysterious something is, the more alluring it becomes.
However, just as Phineas thought Harry would agree, Harry asked,
"Professor, Phineas, Sirius... shouldn't we tell the rest of the wizarding world that Vol..,I mean you-know-who is back?"
Phineas was briefly taken aback, then a faint smile played at his lips as he glanced toward Dumbledore.
Dumbledore's face mirrored that same smile. Looking at Harry with warmth, he spoke gently, as if praising him.
"Harry, why would you tell everyone?"
Harry answered plainly,
"you-know-who is back. We have to tell people so they can prepare."
"For what kind of preparation?"
Phineas asked. He understood Dumbledore's intent and was curious to hear Harry's reasoning.
Harry scratched his head. His question suddenly seemed naive. Surely Dumbledore and Phineas had already thought of this. Still, he answered them.
"So everyone can protect themselves."
Though Dumbledore had already guessed Harry's thoughts, he was genuinely pleased to hear the answer. He was glad. Harry was a good and kind-hearted child. Despite everything he'd endured in his early life, he still met the world with compassion.
He was glad Harry had not been corrupted by Voldemort's soul fragment. Harry would never become like him—and that was good.
Phineas was also satisfied. Harry was Sirius' godson, after all. If Harry had developed extreme views, that would cast a shadow over the House of Black. If he was weak-willed, he'd become a burden to Sirius—who would never abandon him. And if he were selfish or power-hungry, that would be disastrous. Such a person would protect only his own interests and show no gratitude.
Fortunately, Harry had neither flaw. He was kind, but not blindly so. He had his own thoughts, and he understood loyalty.
"Harry, these aren't things you should be burdened with at your age. At least, that's how we see it."
Phineas spoke calmly, before Dumbledore could intervene. He was about to say things Dumbledore might have preferred to withhold. But in Phineas' eyes, it was fine for Harry to know.
"Reality is harsher than you think. I should've waited until you were older to say this, but since you asked, I'll tell you."
Dumbledore looked displeased, but he didn't interrupt. Instead, he sat quietly and allowed Phineas to explain—to reveal the Ministry's politics, Fudge's denials, and how power and fear could twist the truth. Occasionally, Dumbledore added a sentence or two to keep Harry from losing all faith in the world.
Still, when Harry heard that the Ministry already knew of Voldemort's return—and chose to conceal it to preserve Fudge's political power—he was disappointed.
In his heart, when facing a Dark Lord like Voldemort, people ought to stand united. Together, they should fight.
"So, Harry," Phineas said gently, "understand this: people are selfish. If danger hasn't touched them directly, most will choose whatever option serves them best, even if it means lying to themselves."
Harry was silent.
Looking at him, a modern verse came to Phineas' mind:
In Germany, they first came for the communists, and I didn't speak out—because I wasn't a communist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out—because I wasn't a Jew.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out—because I wasn't a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn't speak out—because I was a Protestant.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
Phineas had to admit—Martin's words held a painful truth.
Dumbledore remained silent. He had wanted to speak out.
He wasn't naïve about politics. When Grindelwald built the movement known as the Saints, many of the core ideas had originally come from Dumbledore himself. That was why politics disillusioned him—why he chose to live quietly as a teacher after Grindelwald.
He wanted to reveal the truth out of compassion, not naivety. He knew Fudge would deny you-know-who's return—and might even retaliate by interfering with Hogwarts. But Dumbledore still felt it was worth it. If just one person heard and prepared, it would be enough.
That's why Dumbledore, the "White Lord," was still called the greatest light wizard. Because he truly was great.
With a sigh, Phineas stood up.
"Alright, Professor, I believe Kreacher and the others have dinner ready. Let's eat. We'll visit Nicolas tomorrow."
Dumbledore hesitated, then nodded. If Harry wanted to go, Sirius would certainly follow. After all, Harry would be spending the holidays with him.
Only Dumbledore and Phineas knew where Nicolas lived. Though the two could Apparate with a passenger, such cross-border travel was draining. It was best for each of them to take one.
Kreacher, after all, had served the Black family faithfully for many years. He was the only house-elf Phineas' parents had left behind. Though Sirius bore resentment toward Regulus, even he had to admit his brother had done many things right.
This was one of them.
Neither Phineas nor Sirius had mentioned that Dumbledore and Harry would be staying for dinner, yet Kreacher had prepared extra food nonetheless. He'd even adjusted the recipes based on their preferences from past meals.
Both Dumbledore and Harry had a sweet tooth. Dumbledore simply loved sweets, and Harry—like most children—could never resist them.
At the table, Phineas quietly ate his favorite dishes, speaking little. Sirius kept talking, trying to lift Harry's spirits with cheerful stories from the wizarding world.
Dumbledore looked pleased, enjoying his dessert with a warm smile. No shadow touched his face—as if Voldemort's return meant nothing.
Phineas couldn't help but envy Dumbledore's calm. No matter what was happening, nothing seemed to disturb his appetite.
In the middle of the meal, Harry suddenly spoke.
"Professor, Sirius, Phineas—can you teach me magic?"
Dumbledore paused, set down his utensils, and wiped his mouth.
"Of course, Harry. As a professor, that's my responsibility. But it's the holidays now. I thought you might want a break to enjoy yourself."
Phineas frowned slightly.
"Harry, what's your reason?"
Harry hesitated. He looked unsure, unwilling to say. But Phineas didn't push—he waited quietly.
Perhaps noticing this, Dumbledore returned to his dessert without comment.
Hmm? How many helpings of pudding is that? Phineas thought, alarmed. Isn't he afraid of getting diabetes at his age?
Phineas shot him a mental complaint.
Dumbledore smiled knowingly.
"Phineas, I'm not that old. A little pudding won't hurt. And I believe you know Occlumency, don't you?"
Phineas groaned inwardly and threw up every mental barrier he had. How is that appropriate? Telepathy over dessert? Elderly decorum, anyone?
Finally, Harry looked up and answered the earlier question.
"I want revenge."
"Oh? Tell me more."
"Volde...,I mean you-know-who killed my parents. Nearly all my family. I have nothing but hatred for him. Now that he's back, I know he'll come after me. I don't know why—but whether it's for my own safety, or to keep Ron and Neville from being caught in it, or to avenge my parents, I need power. Power strong enough to face him."
Phineas nodded.
"Alright, I accept that reason. But, Harry, understand this—if the professors train you, they'll follow the school curriculum: step-by-step, suited to your age. It won't be overwhelming. But if I teach you, there will be no holidays. No breaks until you reach a level I deem you strong enough. I won't demand you train every second—but I'll expect dedication. This won't be like studying with Ron at school."
Phineas was serious, and Harry listened with the same gravity.
He hadn't asked Dumbledore or Sirius to train Harry—he'd chosen to do it himself.
Harry didn't object, though Phineas wasn't sure why—and didn't need to know.
Dumbledore wanted Harry to stay away from dangerous power for now. Sirius hoped Harry could enjoy a normal childhood.
But Phineas agreed with Harry.
This was a blood debt—an entire family destroyed. Whether for protection or vengeance, Harry had no time left to waste.
In the original timeline, Harry would proclaim his hatred for Voldemort, then run off to play chess with Ron instead of learning to fight back. That had infuriated Phineas. Knowing the danger, Harry still wasted time.
However, now that Harry had taken the initiative to express his desire to learn, how could Phineas possibly refuse? In fact, he would make sure that Harry never had the chance to slack off again.
Truth be told, this was partly due to Phineas's own mischievous curiosity. He was deeply intrigued by how the future would unfold from here.