The Fidelius Charm and Lily Evans (2)

He had not said "the greatest good." He had said "the greater good." Those were words Grindelwald had spoken in his youth, words Dumbledore had once believed in too. The dream they had woven together during that summer in Godric's Hollow, of remaking the world.

Later, Grindelwald lost and was imprisoned in the prison he had built himself.

Later, Dumbledore won and became the most respected man in the entire Wizarding World.

But Severus Snape knew that in a drawer in the Headmaster's Office, Dumbledore still kept the letters Grindelwald had written to him in his youth.

Dumbledore's lips moved.

What could he say? "I'm sorry"? Too insignificant.

"It wasn't like that"? Too false.

"I did this so more people could live"? Too hypocritical.

He opened his mouth, swallowed all of it back, and said nothing in the end. He merely stood there, rooted to the spot, looking at the crisscrossing tear tracks on Severus Snape's face, at his pale, bloodless cheeks, at the hand clutching his wand as it trembled.

The flames in the fireplace returned to their normal burn. Orange-red light flickered across the two men's faces, casting their shadows upon the wall—one tall, one short, both bent over, as though bowing to each other, or perhaps saying goodbye.

Fawkes poked his head out from the deepest part of his perch and looked at the two silent men. He tilted his head and gave a soft cry, like a sigh. The sound echoed through the office for a brief moment before fading into the silence, leaving nothing behind.

"I know." Dumbledore's voice was so quiet it was like a falling leaf. "I have no right. But neither do you have the right to condemn how I treat Harry by invoking her. Because we are doing the same thing—using