The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity...”
-W.B. Yeats, The Second Coming.
November 1st, 1981
Albus Dumbledore Stood in the middle of the ruined house, and held the boy in his hands, thinking about how to handle this.
the prophecy stated he would be a powerful weapon against the inevitable return of Voldemort, the fact that the boy was a horcrux confirmed that.
"What to do about that, i cannot remove it, oh no, if i did that it would weaken my future plans. no, i know what I shall do.
" he held up his wand, the elder wand, and muttered a long spell under his breath.
with a sharp glow of green and black, the lightning cut wound on his head sealed up partly,
the dark influence of Voldemorts horcrux bound deep into the subconscious of the boys still developing mind.
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