The Time Witch

by SmokeGetsInYourEyes

'When the fairie smiled, he looked very human."Hello." greeted the fairie, " Who are you?""Harry Potter. How do you do?" he said politely, ignoring the way the fairie nodded sagely, as if he had already known that but had thought it would be kind to ask.' Some-one from the past descends on the present. Magic interferes and reality is augmented. "Lets talk about the game, shall we?"

FAERIES

1

Minerva shifted in her seat.

It was a cold, winter night- Minerva's family had floo'ed her earlier, bragging of a white christmas and pristine sky's, the color of wool- and a thin layer of frost danced over the Headmasters largest window and several of the smaller, more delicate whirring instruments scattered across his desk. Many of the silver and steel devices had been stowed away for the holidays, and the walls and shelves had been adorned with playful items; wreaths of holly, sprigs of mistletoe, large, looping velvet ribbons that hung off the bookcases and walls. The soft candlelight filled the room with smoky, yellow warmth, and try as she might, Minerva could not remain disturbed, and though she fidgeted anxiously with her thickest, smartest wool and cotton scarf, the warm, cozy atmosphere of the office , saturated with magic and feeling slightly tingly, slowly relaxed her.

" Ah, Minerva. Such a sight for sore eyes. I hope your holidays have not been to rowdy."

Minerva started slightly in her seat, and her gaze rose to rest on Albus Dumbledore, clad in red and green, a benign, peaceful expression on his face that belied the line of stress that stretched across his pallid skin. He closed the door to his quarters with a soft swish of his hand, the sound of a lock sliding shut and a cauldron fire petering out muted as the door swung shut. Tiredly, he made his way to his desk, where he sat slowly, his bones protesting.

" I wish it were so, Headmaster." replied Minerva smartly, her hand now folded on the pleats of her robes, " But Griffindors have never been known for their peace and quiet. I have had my hands full with several of the fourth years."

" Ah, but what would Christmas be without a little merriment. Boys will be boys, Minerva."

" Of course Albus, but-"

" Really, Minerva." interrupted Dumbledore, leaning forward to steeple his hands beneath his chin, " Not that I mind the odd social visit or two, especially during times such as these, but surely you have a reason to come here at this hour?"

Minerva sighed heavily, her mouth straight and pursed and tired, and let her shoulders relax of all tension. Dumbledore watched her slump in her seat, a worried glint in his eye as she visibly pulled herself together, seeming to deflate in her seat before straightening up. The stern professor tossed back her shoulders, her hands, which seemed much too warm now, brusquely fixing the folds of her robe, jerking her collar for some semblance of professionalism.

" Headmaster." she said, gravely, her eyes cold and hard, " I fear we have a guest in Hogwarts."

Startlingly blunt.

Dumbledore leaned back thoughtfully, his emotions shut behind an attentive mask, and beaconed her to continue with her thoughts. She took a long, steadying breath.

" There have been several…. incidences; regarding school property that have come to my attention these past few days. Magic has been involved, high level magic- a delayed, fast reacting explosion charm, anchored with runic pentagons and programmed meticulously to erase all evidence of a caster, a transfiguration spell attached to a living creature that reacted to and acted on the presence of a specific inanimate object… Albus, I could go on! THis level of magic if far beyond NEWT standards, and nearing the realm of Dark magics."

" Minerva…"

Minerva tossed her head agitatedly in response to Albus' placating tone.

" No, Albus!" she said sternly, her chin held up defiantly, " I will not have you speculate over a resident genius of sorts. This is outside work and I want the perpetrator caught before any students are harmed."

" Are these, incidents, ever harmful?" sighed Dumbledore, leaning forward with a shaking hand to garb a quill, and scribbled down a couple of words in spidery script. Minerva suddenly stilled where she fidgeted in her seat.

" Not yet." she said, curtly, " But there is already a risk."

" I will look into it Minerva, " Dumbledore hummed , the hand not wrapped around a quill coming up to stroke his beard thoughtfully, " Get some rest, you look worn to a shadow."

" Thank you Headmaster." said Minerva, nodding her head gratefully, " Merry Christmas."

And with that she was gone, striding with her usual briskness down the stairs of his office, the door sliding silently shut behind her. Albus Dumbledore leaned backward in his chair, relaxing into the familiar folds of his sleeping gown. His piercing blue eyes slid shut, his face slackening as he delved into his own mind to think and to ponder, his hands clapped in his lap. He stayed there, listening absentmindedly to the murmur of snow against the window pane, the rustling of Fawkes as he shifted in his sleep on his perch, the muted snoring of the portraits behind him. It was a quiet christmas, holed up in his office, nestled into his favorite cushy armchair with his feet suspended in the air in front of him. The pile of impersonal presents and mildly sentimental knickknacks lay in a cupboard opposite him, along with several gifts he had sent and had been returned, and had finally kept, determined not to stare morosely at them, but instead remind him that that particular man was best left along; that happy times of family and warm smiles werer long past.

And that wasn't a bad thing. Hogwarts was his home now, his haven.

Idly, the Leader of the light led his mind wander to the photograph on his bedside table. He could not see it, but the image was one he would always remember; him, his brother, sweet Ariana looking tired but bissfull, and then HER. Back when he could forget about murder and theft and arson, when he could go home and bask in the brilliance of being welcome and comfortable, and understood. Before Grindenwald, before his father, before ARIANA….

Albus rubbed his face tiredly, all thoughts of an intruder locked away, behind his melancholy. How fast things had fallen apart after she left. The little girl with-

The loud, indignant hoot of an owl distrupted his thoughts. It was a frustrated bark, vying for his attention, and had probably been given more than one time. Outside his window two amber eyes glared at him balefully, as if to say, 'last chance, if you don't let me in now we'll just leave and take your mail with us'. With a groan, and a soft sigh as he pulled himself upright and composed his face,- the better to fool himself- the old man made his way to the window, unlatching it with a soft incantation. The bird flew in in a wild flurry of tawny feathers and snow, eager to escape the wet and cold, and landed gracefully on his head.

" Oof." grunted Dumbledore. The bird hooted in satisfaction from it's perch, it's feathers puffed out importantly, and Albus chuckled mildly to himself as he carefully separated the small letter from it's leg. It was a small square of parchment that smelled strongly of foreign ink and pears.

" Pears are evil; pure unadulterated evil. The apple of eden? Nay, twas a pear, I'm positive of it, Satan himself indulges in them. Never eat a pear Albus, none of us eat pears, you'll do well to do the same! "

Dumbledore shook his head, dislodging the melancholic thoughts roughly as he unrolled the small scroll. The letters were delicately printed, and colored blue.

" It's a magical color; blue. The color of freedom and home and earth. In the end that is where we are, Albus, earth the Blue Planet, the only out of many. Imagine, we could have lived, instead, on Mars! Red skies indeed- they never struck my fancy…"

More troubling memories and all from some sorrowful christmans photo and a mysterious letter…. A mysterious letter from…saying…

Albus dropped the paper in shock, his hand shaking viciously as the force of his own emotions assaulted him. One hand clutched violently at his straining throat, the other wrapped in a steely hold over his hair, keeping him from falling backward in pure shock. The light of the room flickered violently, the window bursting open with a howl of anguish and swirling icy air.

"…. Korris….!"

II

Hallo, Albus, remember me? I don't blame you if you don't, your mother never excelled in terms of memory, and neither did Abe if I remember correctly. I've left all the clues for you, just like last time. I'm giving you Time, Billy. Merry Christmas, me and the girls will be seeing you soon.

8

P.S The password is paraphanelia, and Azusa will recognize you if you bring a pear.

Albus couldn't stop smoothing the paper, running one, wrinkled, worn, finger over the pale small square of parchment fluttered in his hand as he strode through the halls of Hogwarts, his boots ringing loudly and sharply through the hall with each heel-strike, the force of his magic cloaking the corridors in darkness. It strained his core heavily, but , where he was heading, he would need it around him, would need as much of it lingering on his skin, staining his clothes with it's scent.

He took a sharp turn, spinning around a corner to catapult his way down a steep, stone stairway. His cloak flew behind him in a magical wind, billowing like a pair of glowing crimson wings in the pitch black of the dungeons. He took another sharp corner, descending deeper into the darkness. Tendrils of Hogwarts' magic reached desperately for him, warning him to stray no further; catching on his cloak, his beard, the long, glittering silver chain, looped around him neck. The soft warmth of the founders magic, embedded into the very stones of Hogwarts walls flickered behind his eyes, it's force weak and stuttering the deeper he plunged into the damp darkness of the stairway.

Far beneath him there was a roar of animalistic fury. Something big, lurking in the darkness, hungry and bloodthirsty, and Dumbledore shivered, drawing his magic closer towards him like a blanket of smoky blue and gold light, the soft glow of it fending away tendrils of darker, more sinister magic; the kind that now saturated the black below him screamed of danger, of death and rot and fouled magics.

Dumbledore faced the black with determination glittering in his eyes, the small letter crushed into his hand.

She had led him here, and Albus Dumbledore would go wherever She told him to, dangerous or not.

III

" So. Ariana."

The voice was cold, chilling, and purred from the shadows huskily. A figure melted from it's hiding place in a shallow alcove, stepping into dim torchlight; yellow dancing along glistening leather boots, ornate silver clasps glimmering off the hem of a cloak, a hood, embroidered with metallic thread shining rustily in the gloom.

" You let her die, " the tone was not accusing, it was gruff, factual. Indifferent.

" The question is, did she suffer?"

Albus wanted to shut his eyes. He wanted to cry that no, no she had been snuffed out like a candle, a puppet with her strings all cut, crumpling to the ground silently without even the barest hint of pain… But it wasn't true.

" I- I… she didn't- It wasn't…!" he let out a shuddering breath, turning his face away from the cloaked stranger that hovered before him, his hands covering his eyes.

" I'll take that as a yes." the stranger said coldly, " Mil will be most unhappy with you, Billy."

" No I-" he broke off with a muffled sob of despair, " I didn't m-mean too. Lord, I didn't mean too, you know that, MIL knows that! I would never let Ariana suffer! I never wanted her to suffer…!

The stranger waited silently as the old man composed himself. One, gloved hand rose slowly to it's hood, wandless, and stripped it from the strangers face. It was a pale face, drawn and sallow, cheeks a pale, porcelain shade, dull cerulean eyes lined by smudges of purple shadows. The boy was young, his shoulders slim beneath his heavy cloak, and his hair was pulled into a sensible tail at his neck.

" Mil's busy, she'll see you later." said the Boy, " Gabrielle is upset with you, she's holed herself with Ezra. That girl has begun sharpening her arrows agin."

" Please…" He was aware that he was begging, but his magic beat upon his skin like sunlight, hot and blistering, and the water under him was cold and swamped with blood.

" I am not half as kind as the others, Albus, " hissed the Boy, " If it were up to me I would kill you for what you ruined."

" Please."

" Don't beg, it's pathetic." the Boy growled, spinning on one heel and striding back into the shadows from whence he came, " Azusa will escort you back up."

" Please…"

The last thing Albus Dumbledore felt before slipping into a tormented darkness of sleep were two cold hands, wrapping around the skin of his torso.

IV

A small boy sat on a hill. It was a magical hill, blooming with wildflowers and glowing in the carmine light of the setting sun, and the boy looked small and waif-like perched on a log larger and rounder than he was, hair and skin glowing pink and gold in the sunlight.

" Who are you?" Another boy approached the child, a curious look on his wide, young face. He held the hands of two other children, a boy, with wild red hair and blue eyes who looked just like him, and a sweet, golden haired girl who gurgled pleasantly where she clutched at the loose clothe of his trousers.

" I'm Korris." said the boy on the log. He patted the bark next to him, " You?"

" Albus", said the middle child, who had more tame hair, he pointed to the boy who's hand he held " This is Abe."

" Aberforth Dumbledore." said the boy gruffly, sticking his free hand out. Korris gripped it and shook it, " How do you do?"

" Fine thanks. And this is?"

Albus smiled down at his little sister who smiled upwards and garbled up at the log shyly, unable to talk, but attempting to anyway. A pleased smile broke over his face when she managed a shaky ' Riana'.

" This is Ariana- my sister." explained Albus. Korris leapt off the log and drew the little girls knuckles to his lip with a charming and sunny smile.

" Charmed." he murmured.

" What are you doing up here?" asked Albus curiously, sharp blue eyes combing over the taller boys spiky hair and ruffled clothes. Several flowers and sticks stuck out of patches in the boys trousers and tunic, and leaves swam in his hair.

" I was talking to the fairies." said the boy, Korris, enigmatically, a dreamy smile on his face, " They are very pretty, if a bit snitchy."

" Fairies aren't real!" cried Aberforth indignantly, " Mother said so! Otherwise, Daddy would have brought us some."

Arian bobbled her head supportively, but the taller boy, Korris just laughed gleefully, his head tossed back in mirth. The sun slid behind the hills and the world fell into soft blue gloom.

" It's true." grumbled Aberforth, small, freckled arms crossed over his chest huffily, eyes narrowed and glaring up at Korris, who wiped smarting eyes on a long, tatty sleeve, " I't definitely true. I've never seen one of them."

" Then you haven't looked hard enough, squirt, " chuckled Korris with a smile, one hand reaching down to ruffled Albus' head, " Come back here tomorrow and I'll show you how. You look like a smart lad."

Both Albus and Aberforth puffed out their chests importantly, though Aberforth looked a bit disgruntled. Korris smiled at them fondly from his superior height of five feet, before looking up at the sky, as if to check the time.

" My, it's late." murmured the boy worriedly, and the three smaller children turned to look where he was gazing; off at the horizon where the sky was turning purple. They saw nothing with gloom, and the small pinprick of white that was Venus, the evening star, but that had been in the sky for at least an hour.

" I'lll see you tomorrow, yea?" said Korris, as he turned and walked backwards down the hill. The two brothers nodded, and Ariana waved a chubby pink hand wildly in the air, grinning a toothless smile in farewell. The boys bobbing head of leaves and chocolately hair disappeared behind the curve of the hill jerkily, the charming Korris waving till the very end. Swiftly the three toddlers gathered a few meager bouquets of scruffy wildflowers, tying them each with different colored ribbons, each one of their mothers favorite, and made their way down the hill, hands clutched in each others jackets and pullovers. They had just managed, chattering quietly to each other under their breath, to pick their way over a small brook when a loud, warbling shout heralded them from far away.

" Don't forget to bring Roses with you tomorrow! And apple seeds! And wear a scarf!"

V

Albus mind was in turmoil; utter, destructive turmoil. His mental landscape had been molded into the faery-hill of his youth, his memories encased in the gargantuan cages of petals and dew-drops, knowledge running swiftly through little brooks, winding through the grassy knolls of his brain. But now, in pain, confused and having just received the shock of his life in the form of a carefully scribbled letter, the peaceful, busy scene had been almost utterly demolished. The brooks had swollen, turning into chaotic streams, lashing out at the nature, the animals and plants crumblings beneath their mighty blows, the earth bleeding through deep gouges in the soil. Tulips, rose, daffodils and violets wilted, sizzling in a phantasmal sun, unproved and charred.

It would take a while to fix it. A while and a lot of skillfully orchestrated magic; magic that Albus did not have.

The old, white-haired man checked his reserves again.

Nope. Nada. Nothing. Not a drop in sight, just gaping void where the swift winds of arcane energy should have run, swirling and dancing and leaping through his body. He was empty, dry. Mangled.

Albus opened his eyes, returning from his brief stint inward, surfacing his mental avatar back into the physical dimension. He was sitting in his office. The room was cold; barren almost, the christmas decorations piled neatly in a box for the house-elves to collect, the walls damp from the snow that had traveled through the open window in his neglectful absence. The room mourned for him, it seemed, the lights dimming, the wood floor drooping slightly, the color of his desk and wallpaper faded and washed out; everything hungry for his magic.

Albus was hungry for his magic.

Hungry- like never before. As if he hadn't eaten in days, in weeks. In centuries. Albus closed his eyes, shivering, wet hands, still dripping with bloodied sewer water coming to rest over his belly, where the void swirled.

" Albus."

Albus screwed his eyes shut tighter, clutching at the cloth of his robes desperately, in an attempt to stop the incessant shaking of his hands- the creaking feeling of his bones, jittering in place, or loose, wrinkled skin shimying up and down shafts of bone. He wouldn't open his eyes, Albus decided , wouldn't look at a blank world devoid of magic. At thE empty air around his skin that should have tingled softly with the feeling of energy, dancing like static across his body.

" Albus." He couldn't hear anything besides the silence. Beside the absence of the humming power he would draw around himself like a cloak, smelling in lemons and sponge breezes.

" Goddamn it, ALBUS!"

Cold, wet, water, hitting his slack face like a wall of ice-cold bricks.

With a stuttering gasp, Albus' heart stopped, froze, and then leapt into action, beating like a drum against the thin bones of his ribcage, faster than a rabbits, frantically pumping. Blue eyes flew open, beneath a curtain of now dripping wet, white beard, his mouth fell open in shook, his whole body freezing up, before jerking into a sitting position. It was cold! Cold and stinging and it made his skin feel numb and tingly and…

" That better, Albus? You awake now?"

A wrinkled faze floated dazedly upward to train on the body of a skinny young girl. She was small, short and with stick-thick arms that swam inside a baggy dress, the color of lime and leaves. She looked around twelve; with large, doe-shaped eyes the color of dirt, and dirty blonde pigtails that poked out of a halo of curly, short tresses. She was frowning.

" Gabrielle." she said stoutly, her voice ringing in Albus's ears. She stuck one, clean hand outward and grasp Albus' own in a firm shake, " I'm one of Mil's if you were wondering."

He hadn't. His mind was still lingering over the fact that her eyes were so very large and her magic, sweet lord her magic! It curled around the contours of her body like a second skin, rippling and swirling with colors of vibrancy. emerald, and sages and light, glowing through the flimsy shells of leaves, all shades of green, glistening and coiling and…

Mil?

" Mil?" croaked Albus, dazedly shaking his head, words and questions and insecurities surfacing through the turmoil that was his toughest," You mean… Do you, is she, upset- with me?"

The girl look was painfully pitying, her eyes large ( so very, extroridarily large, like a house elves, almond shaped and practically as big as her head ) and morose-looking.

" No, 'course not, " she aid softly, reaching down to pat his shoulder reassuringly, " I'm sure she understands, she's an understanding type."

Her soft, sympathetic expression melted into something cold and biting.

" I'm afraid that Ashton, " and she practically spat the name out, the word sounding like poison and dog dung when she said it, " Is most definitely not. He is a stupid, insensitive berk and if I had been there…!"

She abruptly cut off her near-vehement tirade, visibly reigning herself in, her eyes sliding shut and her hand relaxing slowly from it's white-knuckled fist on his shoulder ( which surprisingly, hurt very little). But Albus didn't care, he was stuck on the ' No'. No, She didn't blame him; no she wasn't upset with him. No he wasn't going to be brutally murdered, his body ripped to gory shreds of flesh and brutalized magic…. Albus could have cried in relief.

" Lets not talk about that." said the girl, and it took a conscious effort for Albus not to cry when he looked at her face and couldn't recognize her for any of Mil's friends whom he had actually met;

" Lets talk about the game, shall we?"

And suddenly Albus was very, very awake.

VI

" Now squint sideways… yes, like that. Don't glare though, they'll get scared away. We are much bigger then them, you know."

Slowly, the child began to make out small, wavering figure of white, darting among the roses, barely noticeable through a curtain of his eyelashes. He opened his eyes with a statled yelp of wonder and leapt to his feet.

" Fairies!" he gasped, whipping around to stare wildly at the grinning Korris, his eyes bright and glittering his round cheeks flushed in excitement, " I saw FAIRIES!"

" Yes you did." Korris said smugly, and Albus whipped his head around to try and peer at the flowers agin, eyes straining and twitching in effort, " But they aren't actual fairies, Albus. Fairies can't be lured out with apple seeds and roses, they need a lot more to summon them, they're veery powerful."

The little boy spun around again, a habit which had developed thanks to his elder friend's often interesting or random statements, which required immediate and focussed attention.

" More powerful that you, Korris?" asked Albus in wonder. Just the other day he had seen the skinny boy turn a pansy into a pair of glittering glass slippers and present them to his mum with a wink and a flirtatious grin ( not that he knew what a flirtatious grin was ).

" Maybe." said Korris with a shrug, " Maybe not. I've never looked into it."

" You should." insisted Albus, turning to look speculatively at the other boy, " If your stronger than a fairie then you'll definitely be able to get into a magical school. You could probably go to Hogwarts if you wanted to!"

Albus slooking over at Korris in admiration, his sharp blue eyes glittering with hope and the joy of sharing a secret, " Thats what I'm gonna do, " he admitted quietly, whispering under his breath so his brother couldn't hear, " I'm gonna go to Hogwarts when I'm eleven and graduate top of my class and become an Auror!"

The proclamation was proud and sure, little Albus lost in his dreams of heroism and knights and magic. Korris had heard it before but from Abe, but the conviction when it came from Albus' small mouth startling and inspirational.

" An Auror? Really? Our little Albus?" said Korris in playful shock, his caramel eyes wide and mouth comically large, " No!"

Albus slapped him huffily in the arm, and with a small, dignified sniff, flounced away to go sit in the mud with his sister, one of the few childish acts he still entertained, being a man of seven. Sulking, giggling, sometimes mud, and on occasion, sticking out his tongue. Eating candy wasn't a kid thing; Dad still ate candy, and he was all grown!

" Wait Albus! I didn't mean it!" laughed Korris, " You'll be a great Auror! The most powerful wizard ever! More powerful than the Headmaster!"

" That's not true, " grumbled the red haired boy, " I can't possibly be stronger than DIPPET."

" I'm stronger than Dippet, " replied Korris, crouching by Ariana, " And you're pretty close to where I am; Dippet's leagues away!"

The incredulous look Albus, and even little Ariana, who couldn't quite understand the conversation but was attempting to mirror her brother , turned towards him, was quite hilarious and very very cute, if only because the two looked so intelligent; small round and eyes glittering with stern disbeleif.

" Mark my words, " Korris gasped weakly around his strained, half-hysterical giggles, " You will be FANTASTIC when you're older!"

VII

Albus Dumbledore waited anxiously in the pub, a thick glamour over him that made him look like a burly Irish farmer, a steady tempus charm hovering in from of him, wispy words formed of inky black smoke swilling wildly in place- forming the numbers 13:30. The room bustled with movement, an indiscernible tide of cloaks and hats and oddly skinned people that were probably, not entirely human, but could appreciate a good fire whiskey once in a while. A loud shout for someone named Solaris rang threw the general pub din, and the resounding crash that followed was met by a roar of cheers.

13:31. A tall, burly looking teen in ratty muggle clothes shouldered her way through the crowd, a polite smile plastered over her dark-skinned face, disappearing at the edge of the bar, likely looking for a drink to sneak out; butterbeer, or something with more spark.

13:33. A ember like magic invaded the homely space, making Albus jerk in his seat, aware of tendrils of fire-tasting energy curling around the skin of his forearms, slipping over his back.

13:34. The soft scritching of wood shaved off a table with deliberate strokes.

13:40. Albus whipped out a quill, and a small, bedraggled looking scroll of paper and wrote very delicately- beneath the words pear, and paraphernalia- ' Summer of '09, a small girl drowned in the ocean after an unfortunate portkey incident; later investigation revealed she was a squib.'

13:50. A soft young voice was suddenly chiming in his ears, the voice melodic and deep, lips pressed aginst the shell of his ear.

" Don't mess up."

VIII

Korris, Albus and Little Ariana sat in the Dumbledore's backyard, each of them bent over their own little projects in the dirt. Albus, who had perched himself smartly on a soft, faded red and gold cushion was watching Korris braid daisy chains, the small white flowers spinning in the air around Ariana's head as if suspended by many invisible strings. The little girl laughed and clapped her hands happily as the faery-like flowers floated lazily around her in loops and dives, the occasional one dipping in to tickle her nose or settle in a loose curl of her thick yellow hair. Korris watched her contentedly, a wide, fuzzy smile on his face, his hands devoid of any wand, one of them supporting his chin, the other one draped over the back of his chair.

The three sat in companiable silence, one which never occurred when Aberforth appeared; always a little bit to rowdy or short. It was peaceful afternoons like this that Albus would usually read, with no-one around to tease him or criticize, all alone with his sister and Korris and a thick leather tome- but today, instead of learning, Albus sat across from his somewhat surrogate brother, contemplating his many oddities.

" Korris, " said Albus shrewdly, his eyes fixed on the older boys sleepy looking eyes, " Why is it you don't look like a wizard? Father is a wizard, but he wears robes and carried his wand around with him everywhere."

Albus stared pointedly at Korris and said, " You don't."

Korris looked at himself, ducking his chin to survey his baggy, tan leather trousers, stained green with grass stains, his overly large button up T that was several buttons loose, each garment cinched at the collar or waist with several dyed strings of wool. Unlike Albus, or indeed, Albus' father, Korris wore tatty sandals made of wood and rope instead of polished leather boots with heels, and his hair was messy and different colors where lighter colored dust had settled over the locks- rough instead of smooth and glossy; his whole demeanor bedraggled and distinctly muggle.

" Maybe, " Korris said slowly, a wry, cocky expression on his face, " Maybe I don't look like a wizard because I'm a witch."

The idea was so absurd, even little Ariana laughed, spraying mud and gunk from her dirty hands as she waved them about wildly.

IX

Minerva had never seen Albus hate. She had seen him glare coldly, she had seen him dismiss people as insignificant, she had seen him pity and regret and bleed for others that, in her mind, he should not have. She had seen him stand in front of one of the most hated people, the most reviled and feared, and smile. She had seen him chat to death like an old friend. And she had never seen him hate.

" Demetri Jaxon." said the man, " Paraphanelia."

He was tall and hunched over, his neck long and bird-like, his significant nose hooked between beady black eyes. He wore a faded army coat beneath a camouflage robe, and the hand he stuck out for a shake was looped by a chunky silver bracelet that dripped dangerous and pointy-looking charms. Minerva looked sharply at Albus, in alarm, but the older man had his eyes fixed on the hulking form of Demetri; recognition in his eyes. She had not expected that, she had thought perhaps pleasant surprise, or polite frigidity, but his narrowed eyes were bright an glassy; full of something nostalgic and afraid…. very afraid.

One white, wrinkled hand slowly lowered to and shook with Demetri's. Firm, swift, the hand retreated swiftly.

" Albus Dumbledore, " rasped the man, sounding dry and anxious, " I… I'm pleased to see you again. You look no older."

" And you no younger, " Demetri repaid dryly, a ghost of a smile flitting across his rugged face, " I hope you are well?"

" I am." Albus said simply, and the man, Demetri, lowered one, broad hand sympathetically to his shoulder. It was that simple act of unaggresion that prompted Minerva to slink back to her sentry spot in a particularly shadowy alcove. She did not interrupt; instead, she watched, perched promptly on her paws, her eyes narrowed to better view the two men, standing and conversing in the corridor.

" I'm glad Albus. Truly."

A moment of pause as the sincere words sunk in, then a weak, tired chuckle.

" Are you?" Albus said ruefully, " Is Mil though? It doesn't matter if you, if you forgive me, we both know you would do anything for her… all of us would."

Demetri flinched, hurt and a twisted expression of guilt flashing across his face, but he did not retract his comforting hand from Albus' thin shoulder.

" Nonetheless, " said Demetri, deceptively soft, and Minerva could not read his expression, their faces were both hidden in a curtain of shadows, " I just wanted to apologize. before hand."

" It does not matter." replied Albus, waving his hand dissmissively, " Not anymore anyhow; life continues, whether or not I choose to dwell."

His voice was light, but rushed, tense, the topic painful for both men, if the angry tension rippling across both their hunched shoulder was any sign. They shifted close to each other, and Minerva could sense a storm cloud passing over their heads as the pleasantries ended. Standing straight and proud, Albus stood at almost the same height as the other wizard; and his face, suddenly submerged in light was steely-gazed and carved from stone.

" You're a good man Albus." said Demitri, in approval, " I like you."

" I thank you, friend, now, I believe we have business to impart, and lives to return to. Heavens, Mil must have you worked to a T."

" Always a slavedriver, she." Demetri chuckled ruefully, " Business now?"

" Yes."

"… It is not pleasant."

" It never is Demetri. I have done much of it, and for many years."

" I have not forgotten. Do you have a pen."

" Yes. I have a quill, actually. And parchment. I am prepared, in many ways for this."

" I see, and I'm sorry."

" No bother."

" Ahem…" the man cleared his throat, "The next clue is ' Her Romance'. Entry number… 42."

A startled, choked gasp, which might've been a sob, tightly controlled.

"Her… she always wanted to go, to Paris. It w-was her dream before…"

" Before." said Demetri firmly, " I meant it when I said I'm sorry, things such as these should not be brought up callously. Regret never tastes good in the mouth."

" Indeed. I…I too am sorry Demetri. You loved her."

" No more than you, Albus, " he said, sadly, " No more than you. I loved her, I mourned her, I will remember her. Don't let her get between us… or between you and Mil."

" Because you will kill me if it does, Demetri?"

" Perhaps Albus. Perhaps."

A minute later, and the corridor was empty, ringing with memories and threats and promises and puzzles. A lean, tabby cat slunk from a dark spot in an alcove, shadows dripping off the orange fur of her back, lamp-like eyes luminous in the resounding black of Hogwarts stone walls. She padded away, looking thoughtful.

x

There was blood everywhere. The corpses were those of muggles, their bodies bent grotesquely in the dim, silvery, moonlight, clothes torn and ratty, a peasants uniform. Seconds earlier the five men had been screaming, blood pouring from the thick gouges in their abdomens, one of them from an empty eye-socket, the glistening black tracks reminiscent of the tears they had shed , earlier that night. It was a small mercy that Albus, curled up and shivering beside a fallen tree could not see their faces, ruddy with tear tracks, mud, blood, and filth, twisted in their last throes of agony. It was chillingly dark, the wood under his shivering grasp frozen into ice where his body pressed against it, desperate to put as much distance between him and the peasants bodies.

They were drunk. Albus knew that; he had smelled it on their breath, a pungent and rancid stench that made his head fuzzy when they bent over him and his sister, their hands, filthy and calloused reaching for him. They were confused too, and angry, they had hollered at him as he curled protectively around shivering Ariana, protecting her spine and head from their clumsy, awkward blows.

One… two… three… seven… ten… Albus lost count.

And then Korris had found them, and the sun had come out. It had taken only a couple of minutes; in the midst of all that pain and slick blood against his temples, there were suddenly two, soft hands, curling around his shoulders and he was abruptly, warm, clean, and standing drowsily on the edge of the clearing, a soft, flaxen blanket draped over his shoulders, his surrogate brother standing with his back to him, unarmed. The wild howled through the trees, carrying with it the tangy scent of magic, imbued with fury, the same magic that crackled ominously around Korris like a phantasmal halo of transcluscent flames. Then he had blacked out.

" W-what… what… h-h-happened?" It was too hot to speak, something wet and slick on his face, something dry and rough tangled around his shoulders. Then a scream, high-pitched and agonized.

" Korris?" he called, then, wildly, " Korris!"

" Hush, child. Go back to sleep; I will be done soon." it was a deep, animalistic growl, submerged in the darkness of night, and far to his left. Korris. Albus almost wilted in releif. Their was a loud crack and another scream, sounding wet and shrill. Then another, and another, each one louder than before. It took Albus' blood-deprived brain a few fuzzy, underwater minutes to register it was the man, not Korris screaming; the man who had hit Ariana once in the small of her back with the heel of his sandaled feet.

Albus struggled against his blanket, rolling in the dirt as scram after scream after scream pounded through the otherwise silent wood. Abruptly, and with a powerful jerk of his forearms, Albus found himself hunched over a log, the blanket knotted around his feet, his cheek pressed into biting cold bark, and his head swimming and throbbing in agony, thoughts of Korris, and pain, and Ariana curled in his arms, and pain, and the moon, gloating and round in the sky.

He awoke briefly to the sight of the villagers corpses , spread beneath him on the hill, himself held tightly to someones soft, warm chest, before waves of black and glowing silver washed over his vision and he let his head loll limply to rest on Korris' shoulder.

When next he woke, Korris was bent over him, a sunny, natural smile on his tanned face, a small book on poetry clutched in one hand.

" Mornin' Albus, " he said cheerily, " Sleep well?"

Albus threw up over the side of the bed.

X

" Albus."

It was a soft voice, tender and boyish and so young sounding, a voice that reminded Albus of cozy sunsets spent gazing at wildflowers from up on a hill, of disgusting homecooked meals that tasted of medicine, the kind reserved for his mother and sometimes Ariana, and of family. A voice Albus had always assumed meant safety.

" Lycoris."

His voice cracked pitifully in the end, wracked with greif and torn with indecision. He sounded so young nowadays- and so old. Was he really this old now? Old enough to try and hold his family together, old enough to sacrifice his dreams for the monotonous life of poverty and warm cabins full of sad brothers and broken little sisters?

" Albus you have to pull yourself together."

Stern and factual. Korris was always right, so smart and warm. She had large capable hands, the kind that could fix something. Could Albus fix things? His hands were small, and pale, and only callosed where they turned the pages of a book, or rubbed over a quills surface, or the smooth wooden grain of his wand.

" I-I know… I understand -It's… just, it's….no…"

He whispered brokenly feeling a coldness crawl into his chest and settle there like ice; all the heat streaming down his face where it dripped from his chin and onto the fabric of his scarf. Gryffindor red and gold.

" Hush. Albus. Hush. You can do this, I know you can. You've always been a smart lad, so much more clever than everyone else-"

The words were getting quieter, farther away, as if she was moving backwards, fading, walking away.

"- much more interesting. It's been fun, Albus, but I've got to go now. I'll see you later yea? We'll meet agin, for sure. Goodbye."

Then she left Albus to drown in his misery. Alone, in the dark.

XI

Harry Potter was four years old when he met the fairie. The fairie was tall and skinny, and glowed brightly in the light of the setting sun, red light blazing over spiky, dark locks of hair and glittering off of large, caramel colored eyes. He sat still and quiet on the sidewalk outside of Number Four Privet Drive, his eyes trained on the distance, legs curled into his chest like a cats, his hands fiddling with something in the confines of his baggy coat. Harry attached him quietly and discreetly from his place on the doorstep, waiting to be let in for some scraps because he had finished the weeding- but the telly must've been too loud, because no one had answered when he knocked, and he had been knocking every few minutes or so, hoping that he would be let in before dark.

It was getting quite cold already; the sky just beginning to darken to a plumpish shade of purple- not that Harry knew, he had never seen a plum- but the chill had set in, and Harry sat, curled in a ball, most of his face burried in his knees, his skinny arms wrapped around his calves for some semblance of warmth as he gazed at the boy lounging halfway in the street. It took a while, but the fae-like boy slowly turned to look at Harry, his contemplative eyes softening as they mat harry's own.

When the fairie smiled, he looked very human.

" Hello." greeted the fairie, " Who are you?"

" Harry Potter. How do you do?" he said politely, ignoring the way the fairie nodded sagely, as if he had already known that but had thought it would be kind to ask.

" I'm cold." said the fairie, very bluntly, his round button nose scrunched up in distaste and his brown-colored eyes narrowed in a scowl, and Harry blinked. Could fairies even get cold? He asked the question his surprise- and secret delight, because the skinny boy was very pretty- the faerie gave a starled woof of laughter, which sounded slightly like a dogs bark.

" I'm not sure, perhaps, " laughed the fairies, and the sound made Harry smile, " Tell you what, Harry Potter, the moment I get actually cold, and not a bit chilly, I'll tell you."

Harry nodded, even though he doubted it, because faeries were probably always busy doing faerie things, like helping Santa, or fixing things, or granting wishes. THough Harry supposed that was a more genie thing to do.

" What your name, Faerie?" he asked, instead of inquiring after the wishes. It might be rude to ask the faerie about his job, and Harry would like the boy to stay out a bit longer with him, and not be offended. Offended people were never very good company- Aunt Petunia was always offended and Harry liked to stay very far away from her.

So Harry was very surprised when the faerie shook his head morosely, as if the question was saddening but unavoidable, and answered-" I'm not too sure yet."

A sunny smile; " But I'll tell you when I have one."

Harry blinked, and when he opened his eyes, a hovering cloud of yellow smoke floated where the Faerie once stood.

XII

" sir? " Harry asked timidly, sidling up to the gangly teen with both hands clasped behind his hands. He had a suggestion to make, but he hoped it wasn't overly presumptuous, Aunt Petunia always insulted him when he was presumptuous- apparently presumptuous people were very similar to rude people and no-one liked a rude person. Harry wanted Mr. Faerie to like him.

" Harry." said Mr. Faerie, dazedly gazing down at the much shorter four year old, as if he hadn't noticed him lingering their before, and smiled, " No need for the sir; I'm pretty sure I'm not some stuffy sort of business man; and they're the only people that ever like being called 'sir.'"

" You don't like it?" said Harry nervously, " I can stop, ."

" Thanks kid." murmured , ruffling Harry's messy mop of hair, " I don't mind it much, but, really- no need to be a stranger. What can I do to you today?" he said brightly, looking down at Harry expectantly.

" Well, " Harry began softly, gulping down his anxiousness, he had never been so forward in his life, " I was- I was thinking yesterday… Aunt Petunia, she put me in the cupboard instead of in the garden, and I had a bit, a bit of time before I had to water, so; I figured… you know- that maybe you could do with a, with a n-n-name."

Harry peered shyly up at , who watching him with a sort of bemused surprise on his face. He was a handsome faerie, Harry thought, he looked like the chivalrous theif from the fairytale book Harry had read in the Library, all flashing white teeth and twinkling brown eyes, a messy mop of curly and spiky locks of hair, flying every-which way, as if rustled by an imaginary and playful breeze. He was skinny too, and his hands were large and warm. Comforting.

" If you don't mind, I thought t-the name, Oswin, might… suit you."

Silence as his last, monumental words sunk in.

Suddenly Harry was engulfed by a tide of scratchy woolen shirts and tanned skin, slender, patchworked shoulders pressing into his chest, his head nestled beside a mop of brown and copper. He felt rather than saw the Faerie smile into his neck, spicy hot breath puffed over his bare shoulder.

" It's a perfect name, Oswin. Oswin, Oswin." said the Faerie, tasting the name. He gave a joyous laugh.

" Brilliant!"

And with that, and a slight poof of cinnamon scented smoke, the faerie named Oswin was gone, and Harry was left to ponder the truth of his first friends existence.

XIII

Ariana's grave was a misty little hill facing the west, which stood low on one side and steep on the other, surrounded by a webwork of delicate brooks and streams and overrun with very type of wildflower imaginable. Baby's breath, roses, tulips, colobines, wisteria dripping off the boughs of death trees, tulips looking bright and gay, iris in every shade, cosmos in lilac and orange, poppies, diasies, carnations, pansies, lavender, rosemary, voilets, bouganveillia large, blooming trees of Sakura, looking pale and snow-like on branches of ebony and dark brown.

Her gravestone was a simple cross, charmed to never rot or decay, two, glowing planks of wood covered in moss and lilies and ivy. In front of it stood a figure decked in white, a hood drawn over their face, a cloak dripping off their shoulders to pool around their feet in pristine, glowing fold of ivory. The person gazed upon the grave solemnly, one hand gently rubbing delicate circles over the wood grain, the glove stained green and brown on the finger tips. With a short, sweeping bow, the figure bent over the cross, and the hood muffled the distinct sound of lips kissing the carved wood.

" Fare thee well, Ariana." hummed the stranger, " May winged angels sing thee to thy sleep."

" Mil." Another figure approached, climbing out of the shadows of the dead tree that held wisteria, tendrils of black stretching and shattering over the swell of his ebony coat. One slender hand came to rest on the white figure shoulder.

" It is time to leave,we have let him prepare for long enough, it is nearly four." said the black-clad one, his voice hushed in front of the grave, " Any longer and you'll be called away again, and none of us are ready to deal with THAT."

The black-clad figure's voice was colored with exasperation, and the hand that rested on his companions shoulder spasmed sporadically, as if anxious.

"Yes, yes, Ashton, " sighed the other, shrugging off the slender hand, and whirling around with a billow of their cloak, " You mustn't nag in front of the dead; show some respect."

The black-clad figure bowed under the reprimand, grumbling good-naturedly, and swiftly payed his respects, two gloved fingers reaching out to swipe the edge of the stone, and kiss the air above it, " Rest in Peace, " he intoned quietly, before scampering away after his companion.

" Mil," he called frantically, " Mil! It's the other way! Hogwarts is NORTH of here, not, south! Mil ! MIL!"

Fin ( tbc )

A/N Just a few answers to some potential questions:

Mil, Oswin, and Lycorris/ Korris are the SAME PERSON. That person changes her name a lot, and has a habit of disappearing, which will continue to come up.

She is also definitely female.

And magical.

No she is not an actual faerie, and yes she had definitely planned meeting Harry and Albus.

White is instead of the usual mourning color of black. Black represents the return to nothingness; white to the infinite light of magic ( magic is usually seen as colored light before it effect something in our world).

Azusa will be addressed later and the beast is a surprise.

The 8 is a sign of infinity, at least when it's put on it's side. It's Korris' signature.

KORRIS' REAL NAME IS NOT KORRIS OR LYCORRIS! THAT IS AN ALIAS!

please review on your way out! Thank You!