Hello. I will be slowly revising this story over the next month or so. Hopefully when I am finished I will be happier with these early chapters.

This story starts the summer of Book 5 and continues from there.

The Deceptive Waltz

A Story by Kristin Bender

Chapter One

The Headmaster's Request

The streets were silent at this hour of the night. Each house had its lights off and most likely all those inside had tucked into bed hours ago; even the neighborhood cats and dogs seemed to be snoozing. The bright lamps seemed to flicker for a few moments, before each flame sprang from its place. Each one flew directly to an object that resembled a lighter in form, and which snapped closed when the last of them entered.

Dumbledore smiled warmly to himself as he pocketed his Deluminator into his blue cloak. He patted the area, a gesture passerby might have interpreted as a sign of making sure it had not disappeared. However, to anyone who was wise enough to know the brilliant wizard, they would say he was merely thanking his beloved object for its work. Dumbledore strolled down the street as though it were his own familiar halls, his old hands clasped together behind his back, and he even dared to hum a tune. Without a care, he continued to walk to a broken house on the corner of the street.

If any of the residents of the area were awake to witness such things, they would surely be shocked to see the cloaked man not only steal all the lights, but approach the Black house. The Black house was a thing of children's tales. Most of the residents liked to act as though it did not exist in their quiet neighborhood. The overgrown weeds and towering bushes were enough to make kids stay away, and its large hole in the shabby roof and crumbling foundation made the adults turn their noses.

So, it was a wonder as to why this wizard, who was famous in his own right, would stroll into such a place.

Dumbledore went through the weeds as though they did not stain the ends of his robes. He did not seem to be bothered that the steps were broken and weak looking as he walked over them. They groaned against his weight but they did not give way as most would have thought. He knocked three times on the rotten door, all the while continuing to hum that strange tune.

If he was surprised that the door seemed to open without any help, he did not show it. He merely let himself in when the door was wide enough and went onward with his venture.

The entry way was dark and smelled like musty boots and old wood. In a house so old, one would not be surprised by such things, as they were to be expected. However, another smell slowly overpowered all others: a hint of peppermint with ginger spice. It quickly cut its way through the older scents and beckoned the headmaster to find its origin.

The old wizard reached into his pocket and with one click of his magical lighter-like object, brightened the place in the literal sense. The entrance was as old-looking as it smelled, with spider webs abundant on the walls. A large once-grand staircase led to further rooms, though it was ridden with holes. Even Dumbledore did not think of traveling up those.

He turned towards the living quarters and headed in. It was almost as though the rest of the house did not exist as the walls were clearly new with dark purple wallpaper plastered on them. A brown leather couch adorned the middle of the room, although it was hard to see since it was covered in worn books looking as old as the house itself. The only space to sit on the thing was a cramped corner with ink stains dotting it. Some of the stains glinted the candlelight, showing how fresh they were.

On the floor near the couch was an impressive stack of newspapers, both magical and Muggle. Some seemed to be torn into pieces while others were left neatly folded. Clippings from each of them had been taken and spread across the wall. Pins were pushed in with red string tied around some.

To anyone looking at it, it appeared to be a large mess. Dumbledore leaned in and looked it over, peering just over his spectacles at the articles. He smiled at the one featuring a story about an old witch complaining about her neighbors and traced the string attached to it to a story about an exploding tea set. Other than someone being upset there didn't seem to be an obvious connection.

Dumbledore continued to look around the cozy room.

The floor was covered in a bright red rug over its hardwood flooring, which was also very new-looking. A foot or two beyond the end of the rug was a fireplace, its hearth full of ashes from the past winter, and maybe the one before it as well. The fresh wood piled on the side gave the room a healthy scent, as well as making it look rather homey to whatever guest had come to visit.

If any difference between the living area and the rest of the house shocked the old man, it did not show at all. In fact, Dumbledore's humming had increased and a playful smile grew on his lips.

The scent of peppermint grew as footsteps drew closer to the living area. The master of the house entered to find the headmaster standing rather whimsically at the edge of his quarters. The room he had left -one would presume it was the kitchen area- was too dark to make out.

The master of the house was carrying a tray with two cups of steaming tea and curious looking sweets, which changed color depending upon which angle you were standing. He smiled at the Headmaster.

"It's been over a year, Albus," he said in a silky voice. He tilted his head to get dark hair away from his vision, nearly puffing at one strand that seemed determined to block his view.

Albus had stopped humming finally as he eyed the tray. "That it has," clasping his hands once more. "I see my visit was not a surprise."

The man smiled, causing gentle wrinkles to form on his young-looking face. "Not at all. You know nothing surprises me anymore."

"Ah," Dumbledore answered. He pulled out his wand and quickly conjured a modest chair for himself. "I wonder then if you have guessed why I have come here tonight."

The man watched the headmaster take his new seat, and followed suit. He quite easily squeezed himself between the couch arm and the stack of books. He wiggled a bit, probably smearing the ink stains into his pants in the process, making a book move to prevent it from pinching his hip when he sat. He placed the tray onto the table between them and then started pouring tea into one of the cups.

"I must admit, that I haven't a clue as to what you will ask of me." He spoke honestly, taking a teacup from the tray for himself along with a sweet. "However, I can imagine it will not bode well for my health."

"One can only imagine," chuckled the headmaster. He continued to smile as he took one cup for himself. He carefully sipped the warm liquid before closing his eyes, seeming to savor the flavor. "No one makes peppermint and ginger tea like you."

"Flattery," said the man, waving a hand at the comment, but he looked away as though he were embarrassed. "A gentle means to start a hard conversation."

"Or merely a nice way to continue peace," Dumbledore said and sipped his tea again. He helped himself to a few of the color-changing sweets - they were soft candies, melting away almost instantly when he popped them in his mouth. "How do you like your house? You must forgive me, for I was in a little bit of a rush to find you something."

"Don't think a moment on it." The man waved his hand once more as though to ward off any negative thoughts. "This place is far too big for just me. It's more than enough."

"I'm glad to hear that," Dumbledore spoke happily. "Though, I must admit that I did not think you would stay if I did not continue to visit."

"You gave me more than enough to keep my mind busy," he said gesturing to all the books on the couch. "A new book every week, Albus? Really. It's too much."

Dumbledore's lips curved into a smile. "You've always been up to any challenge I've given you so far. I'm sure you'll do well on any I could hand you in the future."

"Which brings us to what you have come to ask of me," the man said and then sighed, taking his own generous sip of tea. "In all honesty, and games aside, what do you ask of me?"

"Always trying to get to a point before the true point is made," the headmaster said, as though to he did not hear the first part of that man's comment. "You know your questions must come first."

The man nodded, placing his cup back down on the tray. He offered the headmaster more tea, who accepted with a nod, before asking, "Is it true, Albus?"

Dumbledore's eyes became graver as did his once playful voice. "I'm afraid so."

The man turned his eyes away in deep thought. His brows pinched together for a few seconds as though in pain before glancing back up at the headmaster. "Is the boy in any danger? Are the wards holding as they should? Is he-"

Dumbledore held up a hand to pause any more questions. Once the man had ceased, Dumbledore spoke gently. "We are all in danger. You know this as well as anyone."

"Of course..." he muttered and gave a fierce nod before refilling his tea and sipping it as though it were a much-needed vice. When he seemed to be through thinking over the headmaster's words Dumbledore began again.

"I know his safety is of great importance to you, all things considered," Dumbledore said, now hitting his stride in the conversation. "He will need a great amount of guidance in order to survive this year. A figure that is there constantly to give hope. Alas, I fear that he is struggling with the pain of a great loss – something I have trouble with at the best of times- and he will be in danger from inside and out."

"I agree with you," he said, nodding almost to himself. "I think everyone could use some hope this year."

"Would you object to being that hope?" Dumbledore inquired watching him closely.

"I would object quite loudly at that," the man responded with widened eyes. "If there were a list of people who shouldn't be providing that poor boy with hope, I would be number one on it."

"Once again, you sell yourself short," Dumbledore said with a smile. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the nervous man in front of him. "You can be a beacon of hope. Look at how different you are, what you could have become but didn't. You are wise, humble, and if I do say so myself, quite a charming man. You can do much more than just study the world through books."

The man snorted but the corner of his lip curled. "You think too much of me."

"If I may say so, I think just the right amount about you," replied Dumbledore, taking a sip of his tea to allow the other man time.

The man continued to drink his tea, staring into nothingness now. It did not seem to surprise him that the headmaster had granted him an inside glance, that Dumbledore trusted him enough to let him see a possible weakness and see him in such a positive light. He did not even look back at the headmaster. If one did not know him as the headmaster did, one would think he was not absorbing all the words into his being. But Dumbledore knew better than just anyone. He could see the conflict in his eyes and the stiff way he held his shoulders.

Not a word had gone unheard.

"You see," Dumbledore started, pulling the man from his thoughts. "Not only will he be in great need of some help, but I will as well."

At this, the man looked up and connected eyes with the headmaster, repeating his words, "You will as well?"

"Yes," he nodded, the twinkle coming back to his eyes. "My groundskeeper and good friend Hagrid will be on his way to reach out to the giants. I'm afraid his journey will be quite long - almost until Winter if I have calculated correctly - and I daresay that Hogwarts will be short a teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, and I will be without a dear friend."

The man sat up straighter in his position on the cramped sofa. "Is it true the Ministry will replace such missing teachers as they see fit?"

"So you've heard?" Dumbledore seemed to brighten even more at this, glad to see the man had kept up with the news. He spoke easily, "It is true. It seems Fudge no longer deems my judgment up to his standards. He thinks I'm pulling a stunt of sorts."

"Rubbish!" the man spat, attempting to take another sip of his tea and only to find it empty. He still held the cup in his hands though, not ready to give up the comfortable weight. "Men of great power are quaking at the thought of using it for good. What's the point of the Aurors if they are not going to protect the people?"

"I believe it will be up to a smaller group of people to assist with protecting others. I have some on the lookout already," Dumbledore answered, finishing his tea and setting his cup down on the tray. "I seem to have some missing spots though at Hogwarts. There are only so many positions that can be filled on such a short notice. The school year begins in less than a fortnight. If I don't fill them by then, Fudge will surely put in people he sees fit."

"If the Minister could see past the end of his nose, perhaps this wouldn't be such a terrible thing," the man answered, tightening his grip on his cup.

"Now, now," Dumbledore chuckled and waved a hand to levitate the tray to the kitchen for his host. He watched as the man hastily gave up his cup to the tray as it floated into the dark kitchen area. "I must confess that I too am disappointed in the Ministry's choice. However, that still leaves me with the position between what they want and what Hogwarts needs."

The man shrugged. "And what it needs is clearly your decision."

A second after he spoke it, the man knew it was the incorrect thing to say. He visibly winced at his statement, clearly afraid it would be taken the wrong way by the man he admired.

However, he had nothing to fear. Dumbledore seemed to think this over for a few moments before rephrasing the statement. "What it needs is good decisions by me, not any decision I could make."

"Yes, of course," the man answered, nodding agreement. He folded his hands together and began to twiddle his thumbs in a way that suggested he was not conscious of this habit. He seemed to think for a few moments, before snapping back to attention when Dumbledore began speaking again.

"I would of course, always look to others for their opinions on whatever matters occur," he said with a gentle voice and slightly raised eyebrows. "And of course, I need others' help in making these decisions come true."

"Albus." The man shrugged for the second time and with a heavy sigh he said, "Please, no more pleasantries or attempts to sway my favor. Just ask what it is you want."

Even though Dumbledore had seen the end to his little game, he still smiled. It appeared he would have to ask outright, something that he did not do very often. He found he liked to push the other man, and the other man enjoyed the game even more than Dumbledore himself.

"Would you like to take the place of one of the school's teachers, while they are away?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes, of course!" The man said, sighing in relief. He recalled part of their earlier conversation and said airily, "Care of Magical Creatures was always an easy subject."

"Oh, my dear man, I do not mean Hagrid as the one you are to replace for the moment," Dumbledore said with a growing smile.

The man's eyes grew slightly wider as he realized he had been tricked. However, he could not find it in him to be in the least bit surprised since Dumbledore always had a way of doing this to him. He had the sudden urge to lash out with a 'What then?', but refrained from doing so as the headmaster spoke again.

"I would like you to teach a very different subject. One you do not like to practice, so if you could forgive my slight trickery," Dumbledore said, placing his folded hands in his lap. His smile still held despite his host's lack of one. "I think you would be rather skilled at teaching Transfiguration while Minerva is away on Order business."

The man covered his eyes with his hand and let out a pained sigh. The old man had gotten him again. For a moment, it felt like he was back at home. Even though he lost this little game, he found himself feeling better than he had in weeks. He missed sharpening his mind with Dumbledore.

"You know why I would have difficulty teaching such a subject," the man started but already felt Dumbledore had an answer.

"The use of a wand?" Dumbledore questioned. When the man slowly nodded, Dumbledore smiled again. "Forgive me but I have had the misfortune of dueling you. I think we both know you are quite capable of teaching without one."

"Being capable, and not coming under heavy suspicion are two different matters," the man complained, shaking his head. "I worry others will not be as forgiving as you if my true nature is found out. I hear my wand is rather famous."

"Your wand is, that is true," Dumbledore conceded, but the twinkle in his eyes didn't diminish as he looked the man over. "Your face, however is utterly unknown but to a few. I can guarantee you that they will not be present in Hogwarts for the whole year. Your name, your real name, is just as rare. But for the sake of security, I would suggest you to get creative with your name."

"A little more creative than my counterpart?" The man let out a single huff of laughter, shook his head, and smirked at Dumbledore. "I haven't a clue what to pick."

Dumbledore leaned in like he was telling a secret. With his eyes twinkling with mirth he said, "I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"Less than a fortnight you say?" the man questioned, putting a hand under his chin in thought. He cocked his eyebrow up at Dumbledore who nodded. "Well, then I best get started."