Alexandra Dursley {Golden Trio}

Chapter 88 - The Third Choice

 "Should you have that?" he asked, indicating the bottle.

 Al shrugged. "I turned sixteen three days ago. And it's still sealed." There was silence, and then through a suppressed sob, "Sirius bought it for me."

 "I imagine you are still mourning your loss?" Dumbledore asked, "As your cousin is?"

 Al nodded, even though she knew he wasn't looking at her. "Yes, Sir."

 "Your parents have not been the best, and I fear Remus and Sirius had become their replacements?" Al did not respond, instead contemplating what he had said. "And so, you feel as though you have lost one of your parents?"

 There was silence again. Longer this time. "Yes, Sir."

 "I only saw part of your duel with Lucius," Dumbledore said. "It was very impressive." Al didn't say anything, and she knew that Dumbledore intended for her to feel proud, but she didn't. She felt ashamed.

 "Not impressive enough," she said bitterly, biting her lip.

 "You blame yourself for Sirius's death," Dumbledore stated. It wasn't a question. "As you do for Cedric Diggory's." Al looked at him, confusion in her frowning eyes. How did he know that? "You forget that I, along with the rest of the school, watched you in that maze. I could not figure out why you were so panicked, or why you did not have your wand. I assumed you had fallen asleep before the task."

 He chuckled slightly, but Al did not. "When you encountered the sphinx and were so close, the Slytherins were cheering you on. And then when you dived and grabbed Mr Diggory's ankle I thought that you were too late. He'd already won. But then the three of you disappeared and I realised that you knew there was a trap. Undoubtedly, you would blame yourself for not being faster. Anyone would. It is survivor's guilt. But that doesn't make it your fault.

 "So when Sirius died, and my attention was on you, I knew that you would blame yourself for that too."

 Al just sat there, thinking about what he had said. Dumbledore had known all that, without ever reading her mind. And it rang true. "I would like to know more about the spectacular bit of magic that Remus, Harry and Neville recounted to me."

 "The white flames?" Dumbledore gave a single nod. "I don't know what it was, Sir."

 "Then what do you think?" Dumbledore asked her.

 Al swallowed. "I've never had particularly powerful spells before," Al said, "It's why I always liked Potions. But at the beginning of last year I could suddenly knock out a fully grown dragon with a stunning spell. And then there's the multiple cases of the white light when my emotions were out of control. And both times it was only an explosion because I didn't have my wand. But I think that last week, my wand gave me a bit of control over what the power could do, and it allowed me to use it properly."

 "Yes, I agree," Dumbledore said, as though they were discussing where to go for lunch. "Why do you think it happened?"

 "Again, I don't know," Al admitted, "But I think it has something to do with the detachment of my soul. I've never been able to do anything like that before I got my soul back, and I think that the time it spent away from my body has made it stronger. There's definitely a link between magic and the soul - I can't think of any other reason why every wizard's or witch's magic would be unique."

 "Who says they're unique?" Dumbledore asked.

 "The wand chooses the wizard - or witch," Al quoted from Olivander. "And you can't use anyone else's wands. Which means there is a distinction between the magic of different people."

 "I'll be honest with you, Al," Dumbledore said, shifting so he was facing her, "I had no idea where your ability came from - that's why I asked you."

 Al forced a smile and the pair sat in silence looking out into the black night. "I heard about your speech in the Slytherin common room," Dumbledore said.

 "Did you?" Al asked completely unfazed.

 "I did," Dumbledore said, "Very noble words. I will say it again - you-"

 "Belong in Gryffindor," Al finished for him, "I know, I know."

 Dumbledore chuckled again, then became surprisingly sombre. "There was another Slytherin, very much like yourself, that I taught a long time ago," he said. "Powerful, charming, bright. His friends were very loyal to him. They would - and have - follow him to the end of the Earth.

 "He had so much potential. So much ability to do good in the world. But, alas, he did not. His life, his mind, his soul, were filled with fear and hate. And he used that to drive himself to a miserable and lonely existence.

 "I understand that you used those flames on Draco Malfoy in a fit of rage, and again on Avery, the Death Eater that caused you so much trauma?" Al remained silent. "You have so much love in your life, Al. For Miss Greengrass and Mr Nott, for Harry, for Remus and Sirius, your parents, and as I understand it - George Weasley?"

 "How did you-?" Al began, and smiled when she saw Dumbledore's amused expression.

 "A mere guess," Dumbledore told her, "I'm surprised I was correct." And Al laughed. She actually laughed. And Dumbledore joined in. "I'm off to bed, and I suggest you do the same." And with that he swept away, down the stairs, and Al was left alone again, with a lot to think about.