By SidEffect
Disclaimer: Characters and settings mentioned herein do not belong to me. They are
property of their corresponding owner, in this case J.K.Rowling.
Summary: Near the end of book six, Dumbledore muses on what have what has
come to pass, and how it came to be.Oneshot
Spoilers: Up to and including Book 6.
Tomorrow will be the day he had expected for so long. Dumbledore knew it would be
coming soon - just not when - and he did his best to have everything in place,
everything prepared. His only concern was young Harry; had he taught him enough?
Had he imparted on him everything that was needed... or had he forgotten
something?
"Hmm," he mused to himself. "Let me see... Voldemort origins, Horcruxes, the
weight of responsibilities and the light of hope, the price of failure and the joy of
success, the heartache of betrayal and the happiness of friendship... It seems to be
all there."
Dumbledore's shoulders sagged at last, though. He had really hoped to make those
lessens less painful, to buffer Harry's sufferings at least a little. But he wasn't able
to; not in the slightest, and this pained him greatly. He knew that it was more of a
fault of his memory, or rather the lack of, than of his personal actions; but that
didn't ease his conscience much.
Worries took hold of him again as he though of how his memory had begun to fail in
recent years. Oh, the major and the recent events where still there... He still
remembered the day of Voldemort's first defeat, the sorrow he felt for Potter family,
and the guilty feeling of relief for the brief respite that the world had received that
day. He remembered his last battle with Grindelwald; while nothing in comparison to
one he fought with Voldemort, the memory of battle was still there, as well as that of
the price of the victory.
Dumbledore rubbed his eyes as the ghost of the pain shot through them.
Grindelwald's last spell almost burned him alive. Indeed, he was very lucky to have
received help so fast that day; that one of his pupils had arrived was nigh a miracle.
After all, not many people survived being hit by that kind of spell; let alone in the
face.
No, that was not the problem. He remembered all of this very well, even as far back
as that accident all the way back. It was remembering small details from before that
gave him problems, like what day of the week Sirius died, in which graveyard
Voldemort was resurrected, who brought the diary Horcrux to Hogwarts and even
when Quirrell began to behave oddly.
But he had to concede, in his two centuries (one and a half since that accident with
the time turner), it was expected. He just wished that he still recalled those small
details...
Dumbledore looked up from where he sat; the clock was already showing half past
midnight. His musing and reminiscing was taking far too long. With a sigh, he got
up; time was short, and he still had so much to do before setting off for his new
journey ahead.
As he walked he mused about this great adventure, as it was coming to the close as
did the one before it... though not as suddenly and there were no unexpected
accidents this time. This time it was the end of a well known adventure, the closing
chapter of the book he had already read once.
Passing a mirror, a quick glance of the reflection stopped him for a second. He really
wished that the healing spell hadn't changed the color of his eyes during the repair of
his face. He really liked that shade of green, but then again he couldn't complain.
Grindelwald was dead, he was alive, and, after all, that damn scar was gone.
A.N.:Well, here is a my first attempt at fanfiction. Also special thanks goes to:
Speckling for the help provided.
