A slight departure form my previous work on this site, though more of a home ground for me, my intention is to take a look at what could occur if Dumbledore stops playing his games with the truth, and instead sets out to equip both Harry and the order as a whole with the means to end this war, and eliminate the threat Voldemort and the Death Eaters represent. Hope you enjoy.

Ceredin202

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

White Shadows: - Chapter I: White Wanderer

White wolves were a rare sight anywhere outside of a near arctic climate and when you add to this the fact that the last British wolf had been killed centuries ago, it would seam unsurprising that most people were near certain that the large lupine form, that had been supposedly sighted moving gradually north through the country towards Scotland, were just a consequence of the extremely hot summer they were experiencing, the heat having obviously gotten to a small number of members of the population.

There were however a small number of people of a rather distinct group who knew better, and a further few still who knew why this wolf was talking the path it had across the country. But they were the kind of people who kept to themselves, as there was a war going on, and there was no use letting your enemy know where one of the few chances you had to swing the tide back in your favour lay.

And as the young hero, upon whom the hopes of an extraordinary breed of people lay, woke up to the dawn on this, the first day of his 16th year of life, a creature, who had lived when the last of the wolves of the country had still roamed wild in Britain, slowly padded out of a forest that had stood many years before his own birth, and for the first time in nearly a centaury gazed upon what many would agree was one of the most magnificent castles in existence.

As the wolf's shape shifted into that of a man who looked to be barely out of his teens, the dawn's sun broke over the castles high towers bathing the large field that stood before him in its amber glow. Merriment danced in the mans usually piercing blue eyes, though the rest of his body betrayed no emotion as he stood almost rigidly, carefully appraising the huge building before him.

Despite his apparent age it seamed as if the man, if he could truly be called that, had not lost track of the style of the times. As the sun illuminated him, its form rising slowly from behind the magnificent stone building, bathing the edge of the forest in the morning light, it revealed him to be dressed in a simple crimson shirt and black jeans. Over this he wore a simple black coat, and despite its cut being of a style not used for many year, to the majority of the population this small fact would never be noticed.

In the stillness of the air, if one had listen carefully enough, and undoubting there were those who had, as he made his first steps out of the forest the man would have been heard to whisper to himself words that had been and would be repeated by many returning to this place. "Its good to be back"

After the first few steps onto the field had been made the slight hesitance that had been present before completely disappeared as he began to make confidant and assertive strides across the open expanse, his shoulder length black hair blowing slightly in the morning highland breeze as he headed strait towards the huge double doors that provided the main entrance to the magnificent building.

As he neared the doors he closed his eyes in concentration for but a moment as a 6ft long ebony staff phased into existence in his right hand, the long wooden shaft topped by a fist sized emerald that seamed to blasé with an inner light. Not missing a step he continued towards the doors, barely pausing as they flew open with a slight gesture of his left hand, closing behind him as he casually entered the grand entrance hall of the castle.

The floor of the room was comprised of great flagstones, the wear on them seaming minimal even after almost a millennia of use. Almost half of the large entrance hall was covered by a luxurious red carpet the continued up the main staircase that dominated the far end of the room. The walls were panelled in dark oak, finishing at roughly 8ft in height, allowing sunlight to bathe the room form the numerous windows seated high in the wall. There was no change in the position of the doors that lead to the Great Hall that dominated a section of the wall to his left.

As he took in the sight before him he concluded it would be perfect, if it were not for the single black robed figure that stood in front of him, arms crossed, and looking less than happy about being asked to greet the 'Guest'. A well-groomed mass of greasy black hair lay atop the man head, perched just above his eyes and rather noticeable hooked nose. His mouth was contorted in a barely contained sneer as the visitor spoke.

"Ah Serverus, the warm hospitality you offer is most pleasant, I hope the remaining resident professors will be able to match such a gracious greeting." The comment, although dripping in sarcasm was spoke without malice, and its tone betrayed no hints of displeasure or annoyance at the lack of greeting form the schools resident potion master, the words having been spoken in a casual and almost board manner.

As he walked past and heading up the stairs he noticed Snape was making motions to follow him. "Don't bother yourself with escorting me Serverus, I know perfectly well where the headmasters office is, password is Minstrels if I remember correctly." Snape gave a slight sneer before disappearing into one of the corridors, undoubtedly making his way back to his office in the deep and dark bowels of the castle.

He smiled to himself, as retraced steps he had last taken barely less than a century ago, although the memories was a fresh as if it were yesterday. As he approached the Gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the head masters office it slid aside before the password even crossed his lips, allowing his accesses to one of the most secure parts of the Hogwarts campus.

Various items of dubious purpose and use were spread across the room, some looking slightly worse the wear, giving a glimpse at the damage Harry's temper had caused just over a month and a half ago. As usual the portraits that kept a record of the previous headmasters of the school feigned sleep waiting until the visitor, whomever it happened to be, had turned their attention form them before they began peering inquisitively.

Walking calmly into the grand office he greeted the older looking figure sat as the desk with a friendly and casual tone, the way one would talk to an old friend or acquaintance. "Long time no see Albus, maybe next time we could try and talk before war is once again upon us." As he finished his expression hardened slightly, losing the slight youthful exuberance that had been present, and instead taking upon an expression that made it clear that this was not a social call.

"With our respective roles in life my old friend I truly doubt such an instance will ever occur." Dumbledore's voice had none of the compassion it held when he dealt with the student and staff of Hogwarts, yet non of the barely held contempt that could be heard when he deal with many of the ministry officials was present either, almost as if he had no feelings either way about the subject of discussion.

"That I suppose is true young Wulfric, but one can at least hope that better days may yet greet us." The tone was slightly jovial, and a hint of a smile appeared on the aged wizard face as the man standing before him made reference to the now venerable headmaster as he had many years before, in a time where Albus Dumbledore was a relative unknown in he large scheme of thing.

"As you can undoubtedly see my old friend the years have not been as kind to me as they have been you, and the events of recent years have caused me to lose much of the hopeful optimism I once had."

The slight smile that was on the younger of the two wizards faces faded and his expression once again hardened. "To true my old friend, recently I often find myself losing track of the passing of time, it only being marked by summons to the funerals of those I once aided, or by the calls of old friends. Down to business then, I am willing to accept the offer you mentioned in your letter but I sense there is another matter you wished to discuss with me at this point."

"War is upon us, Voldemort now has no reason to stay hidden, and will strike at us mercilessly. What worries me is the Child of Prophecy is not yet ready, and without further tuition it will be many years until he has a chance, and I doubt our foe will allow us that long before striking."

Raising one of his eyebrows slightly, the elder of the two men smiled inwardly as he realised just what the aged headmaster, once his own student, was asking of him. "How long do I have then to teach this boy?"

"I fear that the blow will be struck before the end of his seventh year here, but I doubt we shall be free from attacks during that period." Dumbledore's age seamed to crash down on him as he spoke, his eyes no longer twinkling as he spoke in a subdued and slightly defeated voice.

"One year then, Two if luck decided to favour us to build a wizard, abet a rather unusual wizard, into a man who can take on one of the greatest dark wizards since the time of Merlin and win, a single year to teach him more than most will learn of magic in their entire life times." The words were spoken with a slightly disbelieving tone, and he watched as the headmaster began to look more and more wearied. As he stopped there was silence for a moment and just as he sensed that Dumbledore was about to respond he spoke again, this time is voice slightly uplifted "Lets just hope that he's willing have one hell of a year."

"The question which is upon my mind however Albus is weather the boy has reached magical maturity or not. I remember you telling me that both Lily and James were relatively late bloomers in that respect, each not reaching that stage until the October of their 6th year. I would imagine we could be in for an interesting time if Harry's body decided on a similar time, as from what you've told me of the boy I doubt it will be a simple case of weak accidental magic occurrences around him."

With that and a glimmer of a smile at the slightly pensive look on Dumbledore's face he turned and walked to the doors of the office, opening them and stepping out onto the moving staircase. "I shall allow you to devise just who I will be for my stay here and my dealing with Mr Potter, though I don't doubt he will figure me out quickly enough. If you need me you now how to get in contact, otherwise I guess we shall see each other September the first." And with that he disappeared down the stairs, out of view to god knows where.

Albus Dumbledore sat silently as he contemplated the path the future could take from this point, and silently despaired at the number of unknown factors, and the possible cost of the war that would undoubtedly come. His main stem of worry was caused by the young man who destiny has placed the weight of the world upon, a young man who had lost so much, yet who had up until the end of the last school year managed to hold his head high and fight for what he believd was right.

The wizened head teacher had no doubt the death of the boys Godfather would have a severe effect on the boys psyche, and knew it would take time before he would regain the strength he had before the event, yet he also knew that he could not afford to wait until he had regained that strength before starting to train and instruct him, preparing him for a battle which would determine the outcome of this war, and a battle which only one of the two combatants would walk away form.

Remembering that there was still much work to be done, Albus brought himself out of his thoughts and busied himself with finalising the staff contracts for the coming year at Hogwarts, and also started to look over the agenda at the up coming Wizengamot council.

It was not long after his first visitor left that there was an almost inaudible knock at the office's door and a wearily and rather dishevelled figure entered the room, his shoulder length greying sandy hair giving the impression that he had lived for much longer than 35 years, though the curse he carried had meant 27 of those had enacted a greater toll upon him than the passage of years usually would.

His robes were well worn, and the slight darkening around his mouth and cheeks showed that the usual pride in ones appearance exhibited by the man who had just silently slumped into the chair before his desk had all but disappeared, recent events in life having taken there toll upon him.

When Albus took into account the recent death of Sirius Black it was not surprising that the usually composed man before him was in all honesty an emotional and physical wreck, and the aged headmaster hoped beyond hope that the offer he was bout to make the one time Defence professor would help life him from the abyss he was slowly falling into.

"Ah hello Remus, sorry I called you here as relatively short notice, but I've been talking to the school governors, and it has been decided almost unanimously that we would once again like to offer you the position of Professor of Defence against the Dark Arts, that is if you are willing to accept it." The eager gleam in the others eyes told him all he needed to know.