Author's note: This story is AU post-OOTP, though I will likely borrow from canon. Dumbledore, Snape, and Voldemort are alive, and there are no such things as Horcruxes. This is my first story in quite some time and my first attempt at an epic novel-length story. If you have any questions or comments, please post a review or e-mail me and I will do my very best to reply. With all that aside, please come along for the ride! Here we go! :)
Prologue
Dumbledore sat slumped at his desk, looking every bit his age. Had anyone walked into the room at that moment, they may not have recognized the esteemed Headmaster, due to the lack of a twinkle in his eyes and the dress robes that hung limply on his body. To put it simply, he was tired. He was old, yes, but that was not the main reason. No, the reason for his fatigue was the constant vigilance and singular focus of defeating Tom.
He let his eyes wander over to the bowl of lemon drops sitting on his desk and he felt a stirring of anger inside of him. He had put that bowl of lemon drops on his desk the first day he had accepted the position of Headmaster in 1946. Now, over 50 years later, those bloody lemon drops were still on his desk. Taunting him. And where was he? No closer to defeating Voldemort than the day he set his mind to it.
Pushing the stack of papers that had been ailing him aside, he began pacing his office. Fawkes hooted reassuringly and fluttered her wings, stirring up the ashes beneath her. Well, at least Fawkes has faith in me, he mused. Dumbledore let his gaze wander and glimpsed Phinneas's portrait giving him a pitying look before hastily whipping a book off the bookshelf to busy his nose in. Dumbledore sighed and turned away from the portrait. He had grown accustomed to solitude. He was constantly receiving looks from the Wizarding world, awe being the most common, followed narrowly by pity and disbelief. Though Phinneas provided useful knowledge, he was no exception at times.
Dumbledore looked down into the last certificate on his desk, the piece of paper that had been haunting him for weeks. Once he signed this piece of paper, he will have failed in his mission of defeating Voldemort and will relinquish all control of the situation.
Certificate of Graduation
from England's
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Hereby awarded to
Harry James Potter
With six N.E.W.T.S. in the following subjects: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster
Dumbledore slammed it on the table, his irritation getting the best of him. Fawkes hooted again, but this time, Dumbledore swore it was from pity. He laid his head in his hands, wondering how he landed in this situation. He had seven years to end this! Merlin, if you count Harry Potter's life outside of Hogwarts, he had eighteen years! How could one of the most powerful and brilliant wizards of all time not solve a problem within eighteen years?
But he couldn't sign this piece of paper. He just couldn't. Harry was his only hope to defeating Voldemort, and he simply wasn't ready to face him yet. If he signed that slip of paper, Harry would become an Auror and be in the front lines. Everything he had worked for would be lost, and he wasn't sure the Wizarding world could ever recover if Harry died before killing Voldemort.
He could not sign the papers, not without a plan. He just needed to think. He glanced at his pensieve, but quickly discarded that idea. If he couldn't solve this problem in eighteen years, one short revisiting of a random memory was not going to help. What he needed was an outside opinion.
"We're going to be late for the ceremony, you know," the Sorting Hat piped in, dancing back and forth on a dusty, top shelf. Dumbledore sighed at his nagging, though he knew that he should be more understanding. The Sorting Hat was only used twice per year – once on the first day of Hogwarts and once on the last day. He had been preparing his speech for months now.
That was it. The Sorting Hat. Dumbledore regained some of his grace as he plucked the hat off of the shelf with a nearby cane and plopped it on his head.
"Hey! Watch it! I'm not getting any younger, you know. Though I am still as punctual as ever…unlike you," the Sorting Hat quipped, though Dumbledore knew that he secretly loved being on someone's head no matter the circumstances. "Hey, what's this about, anyway? I won't be able to help you, you know. I only help my students. So, take me off this instant and bring me to the closing ceremony!"
"I need your help with one of our students. As through your very nature you have their best interests at heart, I require assistance on a matter that is particularly tricky," Dumbledore calmly stated, regaining part of the twinkle in his eye.
"Peculiar, peculiar. This is new. Very new. Well, let's see what we have here." Dumbledore relaxed his mind and brought his concerns regarding Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort to the forefront of his mind. "No need to coddle me, Headmaster," the Sorting Hat said, clearly aware of Dumbledore's attempt at making it easier on him. "I am perfectly capable of digging as I wouldn't be here after all these years, before you even, if I might add, and - oh! Oh, I see. Quite the conundrum here. Ambition, yes, but is it enough? And courage, plenty of courage, but courage without loyalty will be quick to turn to trouble. Both have immense talents that cannot be ignored, but both have weaknesses. Tom's ambition far outweighs his other traits, and he will persevere until he succeeds. Harry will persevere to defeat him, though he will not weigh his decisions wisely. Well, I believe there is your solution. Let Harry fight to defeat Voldemort. It's the only way."
"But Harry will die," Dumbledore sighed, disappointed in the amount of hope he had in this plan. But Dumbledore knew just as well as the Sorting Hat that Harry would not take a pause from his lifelong battle with Voldemort to stay safe. Even if it was the rational thing to do, Harry was driven and would not give up.
"Albus, Albus. You really are getting soft in your old age. You always had a way of twisting words to get them to your liking. I'll say it again… 'Let Harry fight to defeat Voldemort.'"
The Headmaster didn't bother to argue with the hat, as he knew this to be true. He loved words, with their infinite combinations and ambiguous meanings. Without them, life would be so dreary. Words were constantly in motion and new words were created daily. Words have the power to create and to destroy. In language, a person could make words up to fulfill his desires! And language was always changing, as well, which was part of the reason that he was still editing a novel about a blue pineapple he wrote when he was just a young lad.
Dumbledore froze momentarily with a quill around his beard before standing up.
That was it.
He just had to make one Floo call.
The Great Hall was abuzz with speculations regarding the graduation ceremony. The Great Hall was decorated much differently than it had been in the past, and everyone was on their toes. Instead of the four long house tables, there were twenty small circular tables around the Great Hall. There were no house banners in sight, no younger students, and it no longer looked like the Hogwarts that Harry knew and loved. They were really graduating.
Even though there were different tables, most likely meant for interhouse unity, most people stayed with their own house. The Gryffindors were no exception.
"I wonder what sort of announcements and words of wisdom Dumbledore will give us. It is a unique year, after all, with the war going on," Hermione postulated, as the usual crew sat down at a table near the front.
"Doh urry mineyulla nonsa martera erry one," Ron replied, having just stuffed treacle tart into his mouth.
"Don't talk with your mouth full. I can't believe I understood what you just said. And shame on you," Hermione smacked Ron's arm lightly across the table.
"What'd he say?" Harry complained. "And what's your secret? I can't in the name of Merlin understand what he says with his mouth full."
"It's not just you, -Arry. I can't understand a blimey thing he says either," said Seamus.
"I said... 'Don't worry, Hermione, he'll announce you're smarter than everyone'," Ron said after swallowing. "And as far as wisdom, it'll probably just be a load of garbage intended to make us think. Remember his words of wisdom our first year here? Nimble, bubba, twit or some gobbledygook."
"Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak," Hermione corrected, looking around the table for confirmation. Harry turned away shrugging. "Honestly, haven't you all read Hogwarts, A History by now? They stand for the four houses, each one represented by…"
Hermione continued, but Harry Potter wasn't listening. He was staring at the sleeve of his dress robes, letting his mind wander. He couldn't believe he was graduating Hogwarts. Is this what adulthood feels like? Because Harry certainly didn't feel like an adult. Looking around at all of the serious faces, he took comfort in the fact that he was not alone. Last week, Hermione began talking about flats near Hogsmeade and Ron nearly went white.
"It's weird, isn't it?" Neville asked, buttering a bread roll. "I keep waiting for Colin to snap pictures and Ginny to laugh, but they're not here."
Ding ding ding! Dumbledore tapped on his goblet with a fork, gathering the attention of the crowd.
"I know we have magic for that sort of thing, but I think the Muggle way is particularly fun, don't you?" Dumbledore mused.
"See?" muttered Ron. "Barmy, that one."
Hermione elbowed him as Dumbledore continued.
"Before we begin, our Sorting Hat would like to impart some words of wisdom," Dumbledore waved his hand to the hat sitting on a stool.
"Once upon a time
The founders made me,
To sort all the students
Based on how they'd be.
Well now I've sorted thousands,
So many I have met,
And I can tell you frankly,
That it's my one regret.
You gasp! I know, I've shocked you.
But listen to me please,
For you are leaving Hogwarts,
And not all's as it seems.
For You-Know-Who is out there,
Waiting for the weak.
So I hope to urge some caution
To be careful what you seek.
Remember that here is not there
And that there is not here.
You may know things now,
But you're not a Seer.
Listen to people,
As it's not done enough,
But stay true to your self
And always stay tough.
You can overcome
My biggest mistake
And care for each other
Please, for my sake.
Gryffindors have courage,
Though what good will that be,
When faced with opponents
Who have rationality?
Hufflepuffs have loyalty,
Friends are always worth more.
But independence should balance
When we are at war.
Ravenclaws are rational,
Meticulous, and smart
But how will they fare
Against fire and art?
Slytherins are ambitious,
That much is true.
But ambition can overshadow
Good friends and virtue.
Do not adhere to the house
You were placed in
As all of you have
Many more traits within.
As I said, I made a mistake,
And had to choose a house for you.
So as you leave Hogwarts,
Remember this too…
A young wizard once told me
Who was ever so bright
This wonderful line
Which is ever so right.
'Today you are You,
That is truer than true.
There is no one alive
Who is Youer than You'"
Dumbledore began the clapping, as the rest of the bewildered hall slowly chimed in.
"Alright, to begin.
"I know I have said this to at least one of you," his eyes twinkled at Harry. "But it really was wise -if I do say so myself- and applies to all of you, so I'll say it again. Always remember that it is our choices that show who we really are, far more than our abilities.
"This year is one that saddens me, as I hate to send you out into a world that is falling apart before our very eyes. Though I wish I could keep all of you inside Hogwart's walls, the wards prevent me from doing so.
"Today, you all have the unique opportunity to hear from a few people in the workforce as you decide what profession you will pursue. First up, we have Healer McKinley from St. Mungo's. A round of applause please."
A very pretty, dark haired woman walked up to the podium and gave a toothy smile.
"Thank you, Dumbledore. Thank you for having me. This is the first time I have spoken to a group like this, but I feel it is necessary. I am the Senior Chief Healer in the Spell Damage Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. In preparation of the upcoming war, we are in need of more Healers. If you have not considered applying for a position, please take a moment to consider it. If you have strengths in Potions or Herbology, you would be a good fit in our Potion and Plant Poisoning Ward. If Defense Against the Dark Arts or Charms are more your forte, you may like the Spell Damage Ward. If Care of Magical Creatures was your favorite course, we have an entire ward devoted to Creature-Induced Injuries. We always have room for more talented witches and wizards like yourselves. Keep in mind, it is sometimes a grueling job and the entrance exams are enough to rip the beard off of Merlin, but it is rewarding. Please come find me afterwards if you have an interest, and I will let you know whom specifically to contact. Thank you!"
"Sign me up just for her," Neville whispered as Healer McKinley sat down, while Seamus winked suggestively.
Dumbledore smiled, ignoring the whispers around the Great Hall, and walked up to the podium.
"Thank you, Ms. McKinley. And now I'd like to welcome Head Auror, Christian Cian."
Harry and Ron exchanged glances, as they were both planning on joining the Aurors immediately post-graduation. Harry and Ron had miraculously scraped out an "Outstanding" on their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in Potions, likely due to Dumbledore's influence. Harry noticed that Ron sat up a bit straighter at the announcement.
"Yeah so, I'm not very good at talkin' in front o' people, so I'll just get to the point. We need people bad. It's rough out there and it's just getting worse. I heard most o' you been keeping up your defense skills," he said as he looked at Harry. Harry could have sworn that he saw him give a small nod as well. "It's not easy, it's usually not fun, and you might die. Actually, you'll probably die. But it's worth every god damn minute of it. I mean, we're all gonna die anyway with how this bloody war is going. So take a stand and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Get out there, change the world, and make it a place you want to live in. All houses welcome. Be ready to prove you're on our side. I'll be around for a bit if you got questions.
"Well if that wasn't channeling Moody, I dunno what was," Seamus shuddered.
"I'm in," said Ron, looking more determined than ever.
"Thank you, Cian," Dumbledore nodded pleasantly and continued cheerfully as if the auror had just given a talk about sock colors. "I have one last announcement to make before I let you all set fire to the rain.
"Professor Carrow will be leaving us this term," Dumbledore said. Harry and the rest of the Great Hall were unfazed by this announcement. It was well known that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was cursed.
"After great consideration and thought, I have found a suitable replacement for him. More than suitable, actually. He has already shown great promise as a teacher and I have no doubt that he will prepare the students of Hogwarts in a way that nobody else can. He has been a role model, kind friend, and skilled individual. He not only has my support, but also the full support of the Ministry of Magic's, which is no easy feat."
Harry felt a pair of eyes on him and looked to the Head Auror, Christian Cian. Why was he looking at him like that?
"I'd proudly like to offer the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to Harry Potter, if he'll accept of course," Dumbledore finished.
Harry sat shell-shocked while the Great Hall erupted in noise around him. The hall burst into applause, someone from Hufflepuff catcalled, and Hermione practically fell off her chair.
Harry looked at Auror Christian Cian, who was standing up, applauding and smiling that same knowing smile.
So that's what that smile was about.
"Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry…" the Great Hall began chanting, growing in volume with every repetition. Most of the Slytherin table had abstained of course, but it hardly mattered as the other houses more than made up for them with sheer volume.
Harry gave a forced smile. How was he to argue with that? He looked to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling, but there was something else. An edge to them. Dumbledore was being forceful with him. Blindsiding him in front of everyone, receiving prior approval of the Aurors – everything about it was a shrewd, calculated move.
But two could play that game.
"I'd love to." Harry gave a wide smile back, not breaking eye contact with Dumbledore.
A/N: Sorting Hat quote by Dr. Seuss. This chapter is shorter than normal as it's just the prologue. Please review! I'd love to hear thoughts and predictions. And as a disclaimer, though this chapter sheds Dumbledore in a somewhat negative light (as everyone has faults), this fic will not bash Dumbledore (or any character).