Fighting Dumbledore
Summary: Dumbledore's allegiance to the Order and the Light was never questioned. But what better way to consolidate your power than to pretend to be fighting evil yourself?
Genre: General / Action
Rating: K+
Includes: references to some information from HB-P, especially in the beginning of the fanfic, but few spoilers. This fanfic is AU to HB-P and DH, and assumes that Sirius Black survived the encounter in OotP.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related information are copyright J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I earn nothing from this fanfiction save my own enjoyment and my readers'.
"What does Dumbledore want to talk to you about, Harry? Did he say?" Hermione asked him from her chair in front of the common room fireplace.
"I dunno. Something about Voldemort, I guess." Harry said. Ron jumped at the mention of the name, scattering his collection of Chocolate Frog cards onto the threadbare carpet. Harry pretended not to notice.
"I hope so. We could really do with something," said Hermione, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears. The cat curled up in her lap and purred.
Almost everyone was still at dinner, and they had the common room to themselves. The three of them had left the Great Hall early and had been planning to visit Hagrid; when the note had arrived from Dumbledore asking Harry to come up to his office at eight, the other two had been disappointed but had decided to continue with their plans. Harry was impatient to see Hagrid, whom they had not visited yet this term, but he was excited to hear what Dumbledore might have discovered about the Death Eaters.
Hermione glanced up at the clock. "Hagrid should be finished with dinner by now," she said. "Shall we meet you there, Harry?"
"Sure," said Harry. "If I don't make it to Hagrid's, I'll meet you back here."
His friends nodded and stepped out of the portrait hole. Harry watched them go, then sank back in his chair and sorted through the items he'd got in Fred and George's shop, waiting for eight o'clock to come. He'd finally caved in and taken some merchandise, but he'd avoided the jokes section. Instead, Harry had picked up a handful of Decoy Detonators (one of which escaped and Harry had to chase it under the sofa) and a bag of Instant Darkness Powder. When it was a quarter to the hour, Harry stuck the package into his pocket and hurried out of the common room.
The corridors were still quiet, although on the fifth floor Peeves was doing target practice with cream pies and by dodging, Harry only barely managed to escape untouched. As he passed by the fourth floor windows looking out into the darkening grounds, he craned his head to look for lights in Hagrid's house. If this meeting went quickly, he could hurry down and still spend some time with Hagrid, Ron and Hermione.
He said "Every-Flavor Beans" to the stone gargoyle and rode the moving staircase to Dumbledore's office door, which quite unusually was already open.
"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up from a pile of paperwork when Harry knocked on the doorframe. "Come in. I'd like to talk to you about something."
"Have you found anything out about the Death Eaters, sir?" Harry asked eagerly, closing the door and taking the seat offered him in front of Dumbledore's desk.
"What I have to tell you is rather more important," said Dumbledore, waving this away.
"More important than fighting Voldemort, sir?" said Harry incredulously.
"Voldemort and his Death Eaters," said Dumbledore with a small smile, "Are no longer something you need worry yourself over. Their time has come and gone. Ours, however, is just beginning."
"What did you find out, Professor?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Nothing. I have had the knowledge all along."
Harry opened his mouth, astonished, but Dumbledore raised a hand. "Later, Harry, later. We have much more important things to discuss."
"But surely—" Harry began.
"Later, I said. There will be plenty of time for discussion after you have made your decision. I daresay it will be an easy one."
"What do you mean?" said Harry, rather thrown. The note hadn't mentioned anything about a decision.
"Your allegiance is very important to me. I have a great many things planned, but you will be the vessel for them to happen. I need your help. The Wizarding world needs our help. I need to know you support me, Harry."
"You mean against Voldemort." said Harry slowly. Something about this conversation was odd. This didn't sound like the Dumbledore he knew.
"No, Harry," sighed Dumbledore, "I'm talking about more important problems. Please pay attention."
"All right, what's wrong?" said Harry, feeling rather annoyed. What could possibly be more important than the Order?
"Everything. And the Ministry of Magic could not be guiltier for it. Their organization is a mess. They harass part-humans and look down on Muggleborns and those who sympathize with them, like your friend Mr. Weasley and his father. Rita Skeeter runs around loose, even after that fiasco two years ago. And I'm sure I don't need to remind you what happened last year with the Prophet and Dolores Umbridge."
Harry felt his face flush. Dumbledore did not need to remind him of that.
"Quite," said the Headmaster, nodding at his expression. "Don't you see? The Ministry needs to be shaken up a bit."
"Well…" Harry began uncomfortably. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at him.
"Well, yeah, it does," Harry said slowly. "But isn't it sorted out already? Fudge already admitted we were right, what else is there?"
"Oh, I agree they've finally seen the error in what they were doing last year, but believe me, the lesson will not last," said Dumbledore. "They forget soon enough if they think they'll gain something from it."
Harry shrugged. He couldn't see where the conversation was heading. "I don't know, Professor."
"The Ministry is crumbling. Once we had real leaders, who knew what had to be done to lead our kind. Now all we have is the likes of Fudge and his minions, who will do anything to keep power. It's time we had a change of leadership."
"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked, uneasy. Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing stare over the top of his half-moon glasses.
"I'm going to take over the Ministry of Magic."
"What?"
Harry gaped at Dumbledore. Had he just heard correctly?
"They've had ample time to fix the problem," Dumbledore said, still in that same calm voice. "Now it's time we fixed it ourselves."
"But you can't do that!" Harry burst out.
"Can't I? I have the Wizarding world to back me, and the Order to fight for me. I don't see how the Ministry could possibly resist."
"That not the point! You can't. It goes against everything you've ever stood for!" Harry cried.
"When I take control, my ideals will be the order of the day," said Dumbledore calmly. "We will see them become reality together."
"What would be the point? Everything you stood for would already have been destroyed!"
"Ah, but I have a solution for that, Harry," said Dumbledore, raising a finger. "You. People follow you, and if you lead the way, everything will be less messy all around." He looked at Harry with his bright blue eyes. "What do you say, Harry? Will you join me?"
Harry suddenly realized he'd jumped out of his chair. Chest heaving, he glared at Dumbledore. He couldn't believe this. It couldn't be happening; he did not want it to happen! And yet Dumbledore was serious, he couldn't possibly be joking, and now he was watching Harry with a small smile on his face, waiting for him to answer.
"You can't possibly be serious," scoffed Harry. "Why don't you just run for Minister?"
"Because it's not just the Minister, it's the whole institution. I need free reign, and the position isn't nearly as all-powerful as it appears. But when I take over, why…I might just see my way clear to sack a certain Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, who has proven time and again her hatred of part-humans and her dislike for Harry Potter. Join me, Harry."
Harry stared into Dumbledore's blue eyes, and marveled at how guiltless they looked. He was amazed at how much their owner now reminded him of someone else, someone with quite different eyes and a penchant for killing people. Someone this man had sworn he would fight against. What had happened?
"Why this?" he snarled. "Why now?"
"Dear boy, I've had this planned for a long time," said Dumbledore kindly. "Recently the Ministry has proven their incompetence amazingly well. Now is simply the best time to strike. So for the last time," he said, "Will you join me?"
"You were right, Albus," snarled Harry. "It was an easy decision."
Dumbledore's face became impassive. When he next spoke, there was a new edge to his voice.
"You don't want to fight me, Harry."
"Don't I?" Harry spat at him. He stuck his hand into his pocket for his wand and felt his fingers brush up against paper. "To me, you're just another Voldemort."
Dumbledore eyes narrowed. "I am nothing like Riddle," he said coldly. "I am much better at being evil."
"Yeah, I suppose people just scream when you offer them a lemon drop. Been practicing, have you?" Harry mocked him. He carefully tried to undo the wrapping in his pocket.
"Oh, I won't have to hurt anyone, not now, anyway," said Dumbledore with a smile. "I have you to blame for everything."
"What?" said Harry, distracted.
"Yes, I'll just tell them you're trying to take over the Ministry and I have to take control to make sure you don't succeed," Dumbledore mused. "It's quite brilliant, really. Everyone will believe me, but who will believe the Boy Who Lived? Hasn't he already proven he's a Parselmouth and has a soft spot for half-breeds? He's been a Dark Lord in the making, right under our noses. You haven't exactly been the poster child people have expected you to be."
"Doesn't matter," snapped Harry, though secretly Dumbledore had a point. "No one's going to let you take over the Ministry."
"Are you sure? They've offered me the job as Minister several times. I'll just accept, but with…benefits."
"Then I'll fight you," said Harry, his fingers finally undoing the paper. He curled his hand around the smaller packet inside.
"With what army? And I hope you'll pardon the cliché. But the Order has been in my pocket longer than you've known them, even your godfather, and they listen to me. As for Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger—well, Weasley's whole family is in the Order, and Granger can see reason better than most people, she'll realize her mistake in time, and wish she'd never known you at all.
"So you see this discussion is quite pointless," said Dumbledore, standing up. "If you come quietly with me to Azkaban, I will only charge you with use of the Unforgivable Curses, and forget this has ever happened. Who knows, maybe I will feel charitable enough to pardon you when I come to power. Come along, Harry."
"I don't think so," said Harry determinedly. "You'll have to fight me first."
Harry pulled out the packet of Instant Darkness Powder and turned it out on the office floor. Great billowing clouds of black smoke rose up in an instant, but not before Harry saw Dumbledore plunge his hand into his robes for his wand.
He spun and lunged for where he knew the office door was and fumbled for the handle. He found it and wrenched the door open, sprinting down the stairs as Dumbledore shouted some curse from behind him. A jet of silver light streaked over his head and shattered against the opposite wall. Harry leaped out into the corridor and raced for the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear Dumbledore's muffled swearing as the man fought his way through the darkness until the stone gargoyle jumped back into place.
Harry couldn't believe his luck when he found no one else in the corridors or in front of the portrait hole. Of course, most people would still be at dinner. Had it really been only a few moments ago that he'd left Ron and Hermione, still friends?
"Courage!" he gasped at the painting, and he scrambled inside and into the common room. He dashed up the stairs to the boy's dormitory and hurriedly threw everything of his he could reach into his trunk. Harry reached for Hedwig's cage, and then realized he'd never be able to get to the bird in time. He would have to leave the owl behind. Grabbing his trunk, Harry hurried back down the stairs to the common room.
"Harry, what's happened?" asked Neville as he dragged his trunk over to the fireplace. He looked around desperately.
"Isn't there any Floo powder?" he asked.
"My Gran gave me some for emergencies, but—"
"This is an emergency, Neville," Harry said. "I need it."
Neville turned pale, but he nodded and hurried upstairs. Harry fidgeted impatiently while he listened to him rummage around in the boys' dormitory. Finally Neville reappeared, carrying a small round tin.
"What's all this about, Harry?" he asked, handing it to Harry. For a moment, Harry was on the verge of telling him—but if Dumbledore had been right about one thing, it was that Harry couldn't trust anyone anymore. He nodded towards his trunk.
"Help me with this," said Harry firmly.
"Where are you going?" Neville asked as he helped Harry stand his trunk upright next to the fireplace.
"I can't tell you," Harry said.
"But Harry, I was in the DA, I can help," Neville insisted, looking hurt.
"No," said Harry. "You can't."
Harry dropped the Floo powder into the fireplace and dragged his trunk into the flames. He took a deep breath and shouted "The Dursleys!"
Harry turned back and looked at Neville for a moment before Neville—and the Gryffindor common room—spun out of sight.
A/N: Something a bit different than what you're used to, I hope. Reviews are very welcome.