(( This is the story of Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest Wizards of the Millennium. It chronicles the partial story of his life, beginning in his childhood in 1891 and ending with his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945. If you haven't read all of the Harry Potter series [namely the seventh book], be warned, because this will contain a lot of spoilers! All characters and locations are property of JK Rowling.
Other than that, please enjoy. ))
-----------------------------------------
"Albus," the woman called loudly from the kitchen. Her voice rang out down the hallway. "Supper's ready."
"Just a moment, mum..."
"What do you mean? Your brother and sister are already at the table, I told you to wash up 5 minutes ago!" She strode down the hall and pushed open the door to the young boy's room, glaring at him crossly. "What on earth is taking so long?"
Albus looked up at his mother guiltily from where he was sitting on the floor. He shifted his half-moon spectacles nervously. "Nothing, I was just..."
Kendra caught sight of the potions set tucked hastily underneath the bed, one of the corners still poking out. She frowned.
"You haven't been fooling around with your father's potions set again, have you?"
"No," Albus quickly lied, subtly trying to block it from view by shifting a little to the left. It made no difference however; Kendra flicked her wand, and the wooden box slid into view.
"Albus! What have we told you?" she cried in exasperation.
"I was trying to--"
"Experiment, I'm sure," Kendra said fiercely, cutting him off. "Always with the experiments! You'll be turning eleven in a few months' time and then you'll be off to Hogwarts, but until then you have no business messing around with things you don't know about."
"I do know about them!" Albus said quickly. "I read one of father's old textbooks, it isn't hard--" He dropped on his belly and slid a small cauldron from beneath the bed as he talked, revealing it to be filled with a darkish-grey fluid. "--I think I've almost got a better Calming Draught worked out, it uses half as much knottgrass as the recipe in the book--"
He was cut off as Kendra swished her wand through the air with a little more force than necessary; the potion vanished, but the miniature cauldron toppled over with a small clang.
"Mum, I..." he began, but stopped as he saw her expression.
"Supper. Now."
Knowing better than to argue further, Albus hurried off to the kitchen, where his brother, sister, and father were all sitting quietly, pretending that they hadn't heard the loud row in the other room. He washed his hands in the washbasin as quickly as he could, then hurriedly sat down. Once everyone was there, Kendra waved her wand distractedly and supper appeared clumsily on the table. Albus continued to avoid his mother's searing gaze as he quietly chewed his steak-and-kidney pie, though he could practically hear her fuming from across the table. Aberforth sniggered quietly.
Kendra Dumbledore was beautiful in her own way, though it was typically hidden by her usual fierce expression. She had thick auburn hair, which he had inherited; hers was nearly always kept in an extraordinarily tight bun atop her head. Albus's eyes, a piercing bright blue, had been taken from his father, who was reading the Daily Prophet as they ate. The headline read "Minister of Magic Gives Speech at Gringott's Denouncing Goblin Prejudice". Below it was a picture of a short, portly man wearing a waistcoat and a top hat, standing in front of a glistening white building. He was gesticulating wildly and was talking very fast with an exceptionally large mouth; the audience looked fairly bored. Looking to clear the silence, Albus's father cleared his throat.
"Looks like old 'Spout Hole' is blabbering on about Goblin's Rights again," he said in a tone of mild interest, although Albus could tell that he was just trying to distract his mother from her rage. "Funny, he seemed to be taking the opposite stance a few months ago..."
"Oh, Faris Spavin never takes any side on an issue unless he's sure that the Wizarding community will back him," Kendra said dismissively. She suddenly locked eyes with her husband. "Percival, do you know what your son was doing just now?"
"I think I might have heard something from down the hall," Percival said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
"Then you'll know that he was conjuring up more potions in his room."
Percival sighed, folding the paper and setting it down. He adjusted his glasses. One could tell that he had been handsome in his day, but the slight bags under his eyes and the streaks of white in his blond hair and beard betrayed that he was getting on in years. He looked at his wife calmly.
"Kendra, let the boy have his fun."
"Fun? Percy, you must be kidding! He's cooped up in his room all day, he barely ever plays with other children... Aberforth and Ariana get along fine with the Sprouts and the Ridgebits, so why shouldn't Albus--"
"Maybe Albus prefers his own company," his father said thoughtfully.
"Little Harvey Ridgebit is in Albus's year, and yet they barely know each other--"
"I like Harvey," Aberforth piped up. "He's nice, and he has a pet Crup..."
"--so shouldn't he be making friends now?" Kendra continued, ignoring her second son. "He's going to get to Hogwarts, and he isn't going to have any friends at all. All of the other old Wizarding families will know each other already, and where will that leave Albus?"
"About where you were when you started Hogwarts, and you did fine if I recall... just like all of the other Muggle-borns," Percival said, smiling shrewdly at Kendra. She turned bright red.
"But Albus isn't Muggle-born! There's no reason at all for--"
"Let Albus figure things out on his own. He can decide what's best for himself." He turned to him suddenly. "Albus? What do you think?"
Albus felt on the spot as every eye at the table rested on him. He cleared his throat nervously.
"Well, I don't dislike any of the other people here... honestly. I just think that I need to prepare for next year is all..."
"There, you see?" Percival said brightly, as if he considered the matter to be resolved. Kendra frowned, not willing to let it rest.
"He's only ten! It's not natural for someone so young to be in such control of their powers... he doesn't even have a wand yet. What if the Ministry were to find out about all of this underage magic he's been doing?"
"Then they'll be plenty impressed, I'm sure. Kendra, it's fine... you overreact." Percival smiled at her, taking her hand from across the table. "Albus is an incredibly talented young wizard. You should be proud of him. I can only imagine what he'll be able to accomplish once he actually has a wand..."
"May I be excused?" Albus asked, pushing his clean plate away from him. He was more than ready to get away from this awkward conversation. At the very least, Aberforth and Ariana didn't seem to be listening, although Aberforth was stabbing at the remains of his food with a little more force than necessary.
Kendra scrutinized his plate with pursed lips, then gave a jerky nod. "But no more experiments!" she called after him as he scurried off. "Do you hear me, Albus?"
"Yes, mum!" he called, hurrying to his room. Once the door was closed, he sighed and stared mournfully at the empty cauldron. It had been his best attempt at a Calming Draught yet. He didn't know if he'd be able to wait nearly a whole year. Next September was nearly nine months away... Albus couldn't wait until the day when he'd be able to work on all of his ideas without fear of getting in trouble or scolded. Maybe his professors would even be impressed; he didn't know what the standard was for magical prowess at Hogwarts, but neither Aberforth nor Ariana seemed able to do the same things as him. Sure, they had shown plenty of magical ability: Aberforth's first accidental magical outburst had set the neighbor's cat on fire when he was three; Ariana's, when she was four, was to cause a broken plate to fix itself after a night of worrying over what their mother would do if she found out she had broken it. Still, could they make things move simply by concentrating on them? Could they make messes disappear when he didn't want his mother to find out about them? Not as far as he could tell. He was different, unique, special. Shouldn't he get at least a little credit for it?
As the kerosene lanterns on the walls began to dim on their own, Albus changed into his dressing gown, crawling under his sheets as his brother climbed into his own bed across the room. As he began to drift off into sleep, his head was filled with warm, glowing images of Hogwarts, standing in the castle corrdors and wielding a wand with dazzling skill, impressing teachers and peers alike. Hadn't his mother said that he was different? Hadn't his father said it was something to be proud of? There he would be congratulated, not reprimanded. As he began to lose himself to sleep, he dreamed that the Minister of Magic was handing him an award, shaking his hand... he had somehow managed to help the fight for Goblin's Rights by making a better Calming Draught... or had he set the neighbor's cat on fire? It was difficult to tell, everything was running together...
Under his sheets, Albus rolled over, a smile on his lips.