A/N: This oneshot is just a little insight into Dumbledore's mind- why he did what he did. Everyone portrays him as an evil manipulative bastard, but I thought that maybe I would show everyone a deeper image. I was just sitting at my computer when this popped into my mind, hope you all enjoy!
Albus Dumbledore sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Albus was a very old and wise man, and as such many people looked to him to make the right decisions about the problems that they faced. Over the past fifty years, he had become a highly respected man whose opinions were valued above most other people's. This current war with Lord Voldemort was no different. It had been almost a year since Tom's resurrection, and only a few months since the Ministry had finally accepted that he had returned.
Albus rubbed his face with his hand and peered downwards at an object on his desk. The Resurrection Stone… How seeing it in Ogden's memories had excited him. In fact, it had excited him so much that he had put on the ring without thinking, so eager to see his long dead loved ones. Of course, Tom was not so foolish as to leave the stone unprotected, and only Severus' miraculous potions had prolonged his life and confined the curse to his deadened hand.
His eyes wandering from the desk, Dumbledore glanced around his office, noting all of the missing objects around the room. He felt a flash of irritation towards Harry for demolishing his office, but did not let it show. Harry had settled in well enough to his position as the Boy-Who-Lived… as well as could be expected anyway. The child was barely fifteen years old, (Sixteen, Albus corrected himself) and could hardly be blamed for acting as he did.
Still, it was almost difficult to sit apathetically as Harry had practically ranted about how terrible his life was, and how he was so cursed. It was true, of course, the boy had a tragic fate, but Harry could hardly understand. The first war… it was devastating. Many adults tried to explain to those who had not lived through it just how terrible it had been, but no one could put it into words. The terror felt by the world saturated the air daily. Constantly, your friends, family, and neighbors would disappear without a trace. Everyday, the death count would get higher and higher, and there was no time to mourn. If you took the time to stop and mourn, then people you loved would die. The Death Eaters seemed to have some sort of sixth sense for sensing misery, as well as happiness. Anyone that was too happy would soon have something to cry about, and anyone too sad would only find themselves suffering for the Purebloods' pleasure.
And the worst part was that you could never tell who was who. The Death Eaters themselves were secretive, terrifying, cloaked faces that cursed you in the dark, and stole your children and loved ones for even worse fates. Not only that, but because of the Imperius, you never knew who to trust. Your father, who had raised you and loved you for your entire life; your mother, who had carried you for nine months, and birthed you, who loved you beyond any capacity; your spouse, your children, your life long friends, siblings, caretakers… all of these people could turn around and stab you in the blink of an eye. You could trust no one, you had to fear everyone.
The terror in those long years of pain and suffering had no measure, and the children of today should not have to grow up in that world. Frankly, Albus knew that Harry just could not understand why everyone was so willing to throw him out in the world and expect him to kill Voldemort. Albus was not delusional, he knew that it was cruel for him to allow Harry to go through all of it, but he had no choice. If there was anything that he had learned in his long life, it was that sacrifices must be made. If he had to sacrifice Harry for the lives of hundreds- no, thousands, then he would do it in a heartbeat. It was cruel, it was unfair, but it was necessary. Albus himself would throw away his own life without any hesitation if it meant the permanent death of Voldemort, but he could not find anyway to do that. He had to live on because if he was not sure that his sacrifice would kill Tom, then his life would have been for naught.
Albus understood perfectly the sensation of "Why me?" and, "Why do I have to sacrifice myself for these people?" After all, Albus had been there himself. Grindelwald had been a terrifying dark wizard, powerful and ruthless. Dumbledore was less known then, but he was still renowned for his prowess and knowledge. At that time he had stayed out of the war, for he was even then a hundred years old, and wanted only to rest and teach for the rest of his days. However, the world had demanded a savior, and so the famous Albus Dumbledore had been forced to take the spot. For years, the government had tried to coerce him into fighting his old friend, but he had refused.
Finally, they had worn him down, and witnessing the death toll, he had relented. Albus knew that Grindelwald was obsessed with the Deathly Hallows, and Albus had heard the rumors. Supposedly, the Dark Lord was unparalleled when it came to his dueling abilities, and no one could beat him. Albus was well aware that his old friend possessed the Elder Wand when he had entered that duel that decided a war. Albus had entered that battle fully prepared to die. He had entered that battle resigned to his fate of dying so that countless others could live in peace. Yes… he knew exactly what Harry was going through.
Albus sighed wearily. He once more peered down at the Hallow on his desk, and then at the wand in his hand. He possessed two of the Hallows, and knew exactly where the third was. He could easily pop over to Number Four Privet Drive and procure the Invisibility cloak, he could be a master of death- Albus shook those thoughts out of his head. He was very old, and was no longer foolish like he was in his youth; he no longer wanted to master death.
All of that thinking brought him back to his original problem- Harry. For many years now, Albus had suspected that Tom had created a Horcrux, but he had no proof. Recently, he had gotten the proof in front of him that he had created at least one, but Dumbledore knew that a man such as Tom Marvolo Riddle would never trust his life to only one Horcrux. Ever since Harry's second year where Albus found that the boy had gotten many qualities from Voldemort reflecting the Killing Curse, he had suspected that a peeve of the Dark Lord's soul resided in Harry.
For years he had researched, trying to find a way to rid Harry of Voldemort's soul without having to kill him, yet even the brilliant Albus Dumbledore could come up with no solution. He knew that there was only one way for the soul of Tom Riddle to move on- to kill Harry Potter. Albus had feared for years that Harry's life would be cut short in the pursuit of Voldemort's permanent defeat. That was the reason why he had always been so lenient with the boy. He had lost count of the number of times that Severus had come to him complaining about something or other that the boy did, yet he was never punished very severely. Albus knew that if Tom was ever to be defeated, that Harry had to die, and so he had made sure that the boy would have the best life that he possibly could.
It was also the reason that he had made Harry into a "soldier" for the Light. Eventually, Harry would have to die, and Dumbledore didn't think that he could kill the boy. He didn't think that he could look into Harry's big green eyes, so full of trust and faith, and extinguish those lights. He was not strong enough to give Harry a short, merciful death at his hands, and so he allowed Harry to fight the death eaters, getting closer and closer to dying. And now he knew that he would have to use Harry once again.
Albus was dying. The curse in the ring was eating at him and his magic. All of the potions and dark healing spells that Severus had used only bought him time. He had one year at the very most. He would have to give Harry the task of finding and destroying the Horcruxes, for he himself didn't have enough time to do it. Albus could only hope and pray that when Harry finally understood what his role was, that he would be brave enough to do what was necessary. He could only pray that when Harry joined him in the next great adventure, that he would forgive him for his cruelty.
He had no tears for the inevitable death of an innocent boy, for all of his tears had run out over a century ago. All that was left of Albus was the hardest stone, weathered by years of despair. Albus glanced wearily down at the parchment on his desk- his will. He knew that he was going to die, and so he was making sure that everything was well organized before he passed.
"To Harry Potter…" What to leave Harry? The glittering of the Resurrection Stone caught his eye, and a plan was already forming in his mind. Albus truly regretted that Harry had to suffer… so perhaps he could give the boy one last kindness. Perhaps, when Harry was at the very end, he could make it a little easier for him. He could give Harry his parents and all of his loved ones, if only to guide him to his death. If only to make his death that much easier. Yes, life had been so cruel to Harry, but perhaps Albus could make it better in the end. He could give Harry one last kindness.
One last kindness…