Harry Potter: Using science to be IMMORTAL

In the misty veil of rain, the coffin slowly descended into the pit.

Harry stood numbly in the rain, the people around him seemed to turn into mere shadows. Many offered words of comfort, pats on the shoulder, hugs, but his heart had turned into a high black wall, impervious to anything from the outside.

In the distance, an old man watched silently, feeling a serene sadness in his heart.

"Albus, aren't you going to comfort the boy?" A tabby cat leaped down from a nearby branch, transforming into an elderly witch.

"You and I both know how powerless words are at a time like this," Dumbledore sighed deeply. "We've experienced his pain ourselves, but it remains uniquely his own; we can't share even a fraction of it."

"Will Harry hate us?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Dumbledore glanced at the witch; McGonagall looked frail and worn in the rain, "I don't think so. Harry is a kind child. Rather than hating us, he's more likely to hate himself."

McGonagall seemed on the verge of tears, "Then I'd rather he hate us."

Dumbledore placed a hand on McGonagall's back, at a loss for words.

"Professor, are we doing the right thing?" McGonagall asked.

Dumbledore opened his mouth, hesitating for once where certainty was expected.

He knew McGonagall needed affirmation for the efforts and sacrifices made, for the pain endured, she deserved at least a validation of her actions.

Yet, he also knew, her question stemmed from the same doubt plaguing him—whether the cause they fought for was still necessary.

"I don't know, Minerva," he could only say. "The world has become unfamiliar. I no longer know what's right or wrong. Return to Hogwarts, Minerva. Murphy won't trouble you. The classroom is where you belong. The Order of the Phoenix is dissolved; it won't exist anymore. You don't need to fight any longer."

"But, Albus, what will you do?"

"I... I am just an old man who can't keep up with the changes in the world. Perhaps, it's time to let go, to enjoy the twilight years while I still have time."

"I heard the Wizarding Council wants you back to take charge."

"The Wizarding Council..." Dumbledore's expression was pained. "Perhaps my insistence led to their deaths. I no longer have the strength to lead them."

"Albus..." McGonagall looked at Dumbledore with sorrow. It was the first time she saw the headmaster so lost. Dumbledore had always been the source of wisdom, offering unquestionable answers, providing a sense of absolute security to everyone around him.

They didn't need to think; they just had to follow Dumbledore's guidance.

But, how could she have forgotten? Even Dumbledore was not invincible, not divine. The burdens and pain he carried were immense, much more than her own.

Had they relied on him too much?

...

Harry returned to Sirius's house.

His friends were there, Ron, Hermione, Cho Chang, even Malfoy. He didn't want to keep appearing as the most miserable person in the world, so he mustered the last bit of strength in his heart, spoke some words, and comforted them.

After everyone had left, Harry sat beside the table where Sirius had last sat.

Now, he knew the cause of Sirius's death.

Mr. Weasley and Hagrid had told him. Sirius belonged to an organization founded by Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix. They fought against Aurors and Watchers to prevent Murphy from creating something dangerous.

Sirius died for his cause, and his killer was a girl who appeared to be seventeen or eighteen. No one knew her name, but she certainly acted on Murphy's orders.

This all confused Harry greatly. It was hard for him to associate Professor Murphy with evil, just as it was hard to understand Sirius's actions, making his motives seem abrupt and meaningless to Harry.

For a moment, he almost wanted to hate Murphy or Dumbledore, with a voice inside him constantly urging him to do so. But when their images flashed through his mind, that twisted hatred gradually extinguished like a rootless fire.

He couldn't do it.

He knew such hatred was pointless. Dumbledore hadn't forced Sirius, and Murphy himself hadn't killed Sirius. As for hating the murderer—he didn't even know her name or face.

So, with all outlets for his anger and grief blocked, the unbearable, unresolved agony turned into a vicious dog gnawing at his own flesh.

His body was intact, but his soul was now deeply wounded, barely clinging to life.

Harry knew he couldn't let himself continue to fall. He tried to find things to do, cleaning the room again, as Sirius occasionally had him do.

While organizing the desk, he found the letter.

"Dear Harry,

How's life at school? Got a girlfriend yet? You're in your third year now, a fine young man. It's okay to like girls. If you need some guidance, I can offer some as a senior. First, be brave (crossed out), never mind, we'll discuss this when you're back. Boys are always clumsy at this age. Even your father wasn't popular with girls back then. Lily only saw us as a bunch of troublemakers, haha.

You've become much quieter lately. Of course, I understand no boy wants to share too much with his elders during puberty. But I still hope you'd let me share some of that burden. We're friends, aren't we?

I've come up with a great idea and wanted your opinion. How about we go on a trip, roam wherever we want on the flying motorcycle, and even find Lupin? He must be bored gathering wild vegetables in the forest with those werewolf cubs all day. Let's wander together, how does that sound?

Of course, it's just a suggestion, perhaps not a mature one. But, if you're unhappy at school—I mean, it's hard to be cheerful in a school where Snape is the headmaster, right?—we can take a short break. Lupin and I are more than willing to teach you some magic. You don't have to worry about your studies. Still, it's just a suggestion. If you prefer to stay with your friends,

 I'll understand.

Wishing you a happy study life, remember to write back.

PS: Regarding some dark arts, I'm not entirely opposed to you learning them, but do so in moderation and preferably under the supervision of an adult or teacher to ensure your safety.

Love, Sirius."

The letter was short, but it took Harry over an hour to finish reading it. He cried so hard several times that he nearly suffocated.

In the midst of overwhelming sorrow, there was only one thought in his mind: he wanted Sirius back, at any cost. He wanted to see him again.

Then, that voice emerged in his heart once more.

This time, it was clearer than ever before.

"Then surrender your soul."

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