Chapter 182: Jon and Dumbledore
What kind of person was Albus Dumbledore?
Rita Skeeter called him “a devious schemer.”
But in the eyes of Harry Potter and the members of the Order of the Phoenix, he might be “a kind yet commanding elder.”
Dumbledore was exactly that kind of contradiction.
On one hand, he treated his friends, subordinates, and students with kindness, offering help and trust in their hardest moments, caring little for their past mistakes...
On the other hand, in pursuit of victory, he would stop at nothing—sacrificing even his own life if necessary, let alone others. Everyone was a piece on his chessboard.
...
With the foresight granted by his Seer’s perspective, Jon Hart understood Dumbledore more deeply than most—a distinct advantage. That was why, for years, Jon had tried to keep his distance.
But fate seemed to mock him.
From the moment his name came out of the Goblet of Fire—or more accurately, from the moment a year earlier when he had secretly freed Buckbeak and Black—Jon realized he was firmly bound to Dumbledore.
In some ways, this wasn’t a bad thing. Over the past year, following Dumbledore, he had learned much—knowledge he would never have touched even with seven years at any other magical academy.
An ordinary wizard might have been moved by Dumbledore’s trust and teaching, awed by his charisma, and would have gladly devoted themselves to serving him.
Dumbledore, in turn, would have placed them in his grand strategy, making them a vital piece of victory—while also ensuring, as far as possible, a relatively perfect ending for them.
Newt Scamander had been like that. So had Severus Snape. So too was Harry Potter.
But Jon was different.
He was not Newt, not Snape, not Harry—he was Jon Hart.
And he would not quietly walk the path Dumbledore had laid for him. That was far too dangerous.
Because Jon believed Dumbledore had overestimated him.
As a Seer and a transmigrator, he had the advantage of foresight, allowing him to handle many things flawlessly. But that didn’t mean he possessed true ability of that level.
Just as he could easily crush Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum in the Triwizard Tournament—but in an unfamiliar event, he might not even come close.
That wasn’t self-pity. It was fact. He was still only a third-year student, and he knew exactly what he was capable of.
But Dumbledore didn’t know this.
Perhaps in Dumbledore’s eyes, he was a prodigy without equal—one to rival Dumbledore himself or even Grindelwald in their youth.
Dumbledore might believe certain tasks posed no real difficulty for him, when in truth they were extremely dangerous.
Without the advantage of foresight, if forced to walk the path Dumbledore had arranged, he would face those dangers head-on—and his chance of dying would skyrocket.
Jon didn’t see any reason to take that risk.
So for more than half a year, he had been thinking—thinking about how to free himself from Dumbledore.
But it was difficult. He was Hogwarts’ Champion, Dumbledore’s favored protégé—half the wizarding world knew it.
Perhaps before the Triwizard Tournament there had been hope of transferring to France, but after that, it became impossible.
There was no reason to break with Dumbledore—and Jon didn’t have the nerve to do so.
Ever since Dumbledore had placed his name into the Goblet of Fire (Jon was certain only he could have done it), Jon had understood this with painful clarity.
But there was still one chance.
Before the Second Task, Jon had thought of it.
That chance was to let Jon Hart die.
Only death could end it all.
Fortunately, the Third Task gave him that chance.
...
The chatter among the headmasters’ portraits had grown quiet. After their brief shock and delight, they quickly sensed something was wrong.
They returned to their own frames, silently waiting to see what came next.
The door to the Headmaster’s Office opened.
Albus Dumbledore entered.
“What’s going on?” he asked sternly, his gaze fixed on Jon.
His eyes held no surprise—only doubt.
“Alastor Moody is a Death Eater,” Jon said, rising to give up the chair. “More precisely, he was being impersonated by the Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr.—Mr. Crouch’s son. He’s alive, rejoined the Death Eaters, and even killed his own father.”
Dumbledore did not sit. He remained standing.
Even faced with such astonishing news, his expression did not waver.
“I suspected as much... And the body?”
“Yes.” Jon nodded. “He attacked me and tried to put me under the Imperius Curse... but luckily, Fawkes saved me. Once free of it, I knocked him out.
“I always carry Veritaserum with me—the first advanced potion I ever brewed under Professor Snape’s instruction.” Jon explained calmly.
“After forcing it down Crouch’s throat, I learned of a shocking plan. The Goblet of Fire was a Portkey—it leads to a graveyard. He intended to send the Triwizard Champion, Harry Potter, there to resurrect the Dark Lord using Harry’s blood.”
“Voldemort... use his proper name...” Dumbledore frowned.
“You have the strength to face him without fear,” Jon said with a faint smile, his eyes apologetic. “But I’m sorry—I don’t.”
“And then?” Dumbledore pressed, not correcting Jon again.
Jon picked up a silver mouse from the desk, toying with it idly as he continued:
“Then I realized I’d made a mistake... Because from Crouch I learned that the other mastermind behind this plan was Peter Pettigrew. And Mr. Pettigrew...”
He set the silver mouse back down.
“So I knew if I didn’t follow through with the plan, I might ruin your larger designs.” Jon smiled faintly. “So... even though I don’t know if what I did was right...”
At that moment, Jon felt Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes lock onto him.
He lowered his gaze, reaching out to stroke Fawkes, still no bigger than a fist.
Author's Note
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