Chapter 60: Chapter 60
"But, have you ever asked yourself, why not?"
"I... no. No, I haven't," Milo paused. "But only because I haven't had to. I'm an adventurer. Fighting monsters is what I do."
"Because you're an adventurer? So you do it... for the sense of adventure?"
"No, that's not it at all. It's... it's hard to explain." How do you explain to someone something that's so obvious? Adventurers fight monsters. That's just how it is. You'd have as much luck trying to explain to someone why two and two made four.
"You're a smart boy. Try."
"I'm a PC. An adventurer. A hero. When there's a monster, or an evil necromancer, or a murderer, or whatever, it's my job to take him out."
"But in this case, in Hogwarts, there are others who could fight that Troll, do that job, at least as well as you could."
"It... it doesn't matter. I was there. The Troll was there. It happened for a reason; I was supposed to fight that Troll."
"You're a bit young to have set so much stock in fate."
"Not fate. Planning by a higher power."
"By God?" Dumbledore asked.
"Hah, no. In my experience, gods spend too much time fighting amongst themselves and making powerful, yet shockingly unoptimized, magical artifacts and holy relics to plan people's lives out."
"Then... who?"
"The same entity that makes sure that, eventually, a villain will always be defeated by a hero. That arranges for Draco and Harry to be the same age, at the same school. That arranges for the Philosopher's Stone to be hidden at that same school in their first year. That keeps the background world running when we're not looking at it."
"That sounds like fate to me," Dumbledore said. "Except maybe for that last one."
Milo simply shrugged.
"So, you believe it is your fate to fight monsters?" Dumbledore pressed.
"I... I don't think I'm being clear," Milo said. "I fight monsters. I'm an adventurer. A hero. It's a fact of life. There's no why to it, it's just... how my life goes."
"Is it to protect innocent lives?" Dumbledore asked.
"Not... really. But when it happens, that's a perk, I suppose."
"To right great imbalances in the universe?"
"No. Are there great imbalances I wasn't aware of?"
"Not to my knowledge. Is it for revenge?"
"No. I don't have anything I feel all that... bitter about."
"For the thrill, then?"
"I don't do anything for the thrill of it."
"For glory and respect?"
"No, without Leadership, glory's about as useful as Skill Focus (Craft (Basketweaving))."
"And you don't see yourself as a leader, then?"
"A planner, maybe, but... a leader? One who stands on a crate and gives inspiring speeches to a bunch of low-level Commoners and Warriors? No, I'll leave that to someone else. What's with all the questions, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily.
"I've known witches and wizards—and more than a few Muggles, for that matter—who set forth to battle evil without any clear motivation for doing so. They... tend to fit into one of two categories. Either they discover the reason within themselves later, and go on to do great things, or, more often... they fall."
"They die? Because I'd have to disagree, Professor; Neutral adventurers tend to be much more pragmatic and level-headed and overall far less likely to die some a stupid sacrifice or last stand than Good ones."
"Sometimes they do," Dumbledore admitted soberly. "But more often, they find themselves becoming what they once fought."
"What, they go Evil? I don't think I'm in any danger of that. It's just not... in character." Milo sighed. "I'm not... I'm not really equipped to discuss philosophy, Headmaster."
"And why is that?"
"I... I fight monsters," he said firmly. "I kick down doors. I find treasure. I gain Experience. I spend an inordinate amount of time in taverns. I operate best in groups of four. I solve mysteries. I use magic. I don't... the discussion of why very rarely comes up. And even then... if it did, the reason for it would suddenly appear in my head. Poof. Like it had always been there, the same as if you asked me what my parents' names were. It's like a part of me, the part that makes those decisions and created the history and the hopes and dreams... it's gone. I'm just the collection of stats and spells with a race and alignment. I don't know how to explain it; to my knowledge this has never happened to anyone before. It's like... like I'm a character in a play, and the player was left behind when I was brought here."
"Maybe," said Dumbledore, "it's time you started to think for yourself? To be more than a simple mask?"
"Are you suggesting..."
"If you're a character," Dumbledore shrugged, "I don't see any reason why you can't be your own player."
Milo stared at the Headmaster, completely dumbstruck.
"And now, I believe, it is time for us both to go to bed. You seem to be quite recovered, but would you do me one more favour and spend the night in the hospital wing? You'll see why tomorrow," Dumbledore said.
"Sure," Milo shrugged. He was used to sleeping in the wilderness and in ancient crypts, anyways. While a step-and-a-half down from the four-poster beds in Gryffindor tower, the hospital cots were a great deal more comfortable than a bedroll—not, when it came to it, that Milo much cared.
"Goodnight, Milo."
"'Night, Professor."
Milo was already halfway back to the hospital wing when he realized that, when Dumbledore asked him how he faked the potion, it meant he actually believed that Milo was a different sort of Wizard.
What does he know that I don't? Or rather... what does he know that I know that I don't know he knows?
And why does Lucius want me expelled?
And who really killed the acromantula? And why was it missing a fang?
The lack of injuries on the nonetheless dead spider implied one thing...
Death Effect.
The Killing Curse.
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