Snow arrived at Hogwarts with the thoroughness of something that had made up its mind.
The castle went white — rooflines, parapets, the heads of gargoyles, the horizontal surfaces of every arch and buttress — and stayed that way. The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall reflected a sky the colour of pewter, and the fires were kept burning all day in every common room and corridor, which made Hogwarts feel, as it always did in winter, like a living thing generating its own warmth.
The Quidditch pitch had been cleared by seven in the morning on the day of the Gryffindor match. The snow was back inside an hour. The game was played anyway, as Quidditch always was, because the prospect of cancellation raised issues of house pride that no amount of meteorological inconvenience was considered adequate to address.
Kevin could hear the crowd from his workroom window.
Dumbledore appeared on his sofa around noon with the specific timing of a man who has been waiting for Kevin to be alone and has found his moment.
"Severus told me about the Killing Curse training," Dumbledore said, by way of opening.
"I know," Kevin said. "He mentioned he'd told you. Tea?"
"Please."
The teapot obliged. Kevin settled into his chair across from Dumbledore, who spent a moment looking at the photograph Hermione had framed on the shelf — Kevin, Hermione, and the Grangers at some point in the summer, all of them squinting in bright light and failing to look natural about it.
"You know about Harry," Dumbledore said. Not a question.
"The soul fragment, yes. I've known for a while."
"And Severus agreed to help you find a different approach."
"He did."
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. "Kevin, I want you to understand that my own plan wasn't made lightly. Voldemort deliberately anchored himself to Harry's blood when he returned — the same sacrifice magic that shielded Harry the first time. My hope was that this would mean the Killing Curse, if it found Harry again, would destroy only the fragment while the blood protection kept the rest intact."
"I understand the logic," Kevin said. "And I understand you believe Harry would walk into it willingly."
"He would," Dumbledore said simply. "That is who he is."
"I know that too." Kevin turned his cup. "I'm not arguing with your assessment of Harry. I'm arguing with the outcome." He looked up. "If there's another way — one that doesn't require him to die, even temporarily — I'd rather find it. Not because I don't trust him. Because I don't see why we should make him carry that if we don't have to."
Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment.
"You've been thinking about the prophecy," he said.
Kevin smiled slightly. "I have. Can I run something past you?"
"By all means."
Kevin set down his cup. "The prophecy's last line: neither can live while the other survives. Standard reading: one must kill the other. Only one lives." He paused. "But there's another reading. Neither can live while the other survives — meaning neither of them gets to fully live, the way a person should be able to live, while the other is out there."
Dumbledore's expression shifted fractionally.
"Harry can't have a normal life while Voldemort exists," Kevin continued. "Voldemort can't have — whatever it is he actually wants, which I'd argue is closer to being feared than being immortal — while Harry exists. The prophecy describes a stalemate condition, not necessarily a death match."
"The resolution," Dumbledore said slowly, "isn't necessarily that one kills the other. It could be that one outlives the other."
"Harry outlives Voldemort. The stalemate ends. The prophecy resolves."
"And the line must die at the hand of the other—"
"'At the hand of the other' doesn't specify who that other is at the moment of death," Kevin said. "If Voldemort dies to a spell that I cast, but the spell draws on Harry's blood — on the protection that Harry carries — is that not Harry's hand, in a meaningful sense?"
Dumbledore sat very still.
"That's a considerable stretch of the language," he said.
"Yes," Kevin agreed. "But prophecies are famous for resolving in unexpected ways. What they're not famous for is being more straightforward than they appear."
A long pause.
Then Dumbledore laughed — a genuine laugh, quiet and slightly helpless, the sound of a man who has spent a long time carrying a very heavy interpretation and has just been handed a lighter one.
"You've been thinking about this for some time," he said.
"Since roughly fourth year," Kevin admitted.
"And you believe this interpretation is valid?"
"I believe it's worth attempting. If I can remove the soul fragment without killing Harry, and if Voldemort can be destroyed by other means with Harry surviving — the prophecy doesn't break. It just resolves differently than expected." Kevin looked at him steadily. "And if I'm wrong? Your plan is still there. We haven't closed anything off."
Dumbledore looked at the photograph on the shelf again. Then at Kevin.
"Keep going," he said quietly. "I'll be watching."
Hear me out y'all the bonus chapter is written, it's ready, sitting in the dark like a firefly waiting to be set free into the night. Only your powerstones hold the key, folks. Don't you let it sit there waiting. Set it free now