AN: So, sorry for beginning a new story before updating the rest of my stories first, but have no fear! This is more a little sideproject than anything else, just an outlet for the plotbunnies that keep on viciously attacking me during all hours of the day (and most of the night). As such, this story will not follow an updating schedule, instead it will simply be updated whenever I am forced to pump out a chapter :)

As for my other stories, Updates are all on their way, starting with a long overdue one for MotC. After that, I'll either brush up on some of my other story idea's, or just keep on updating. And somehwere inbetween all of that, this fic will get updated.

Do you have any idea's to defend the characters of J.K. Rowling from the bashers? Let me know, maybe you'll inspire a chapter, which will earn you an honourable mention in my AN and a digital cookie. :D

Playing Rowling's advocate

Dumbledore

"Professor?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"I was just wondering sir, just how much time do we have?"

A soft chuckling followed.

"My dear boy, it could be an hour, or an eternity. I think you'll find that in this place, they can be quite the same."

Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived-But-Possibly-Not-At-The-Moment, furrowed his brow in confusion.

"So, does that mean that we still have time?"

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore looked at the boy beside him with a kind smile, his (in)famous twinkle blazing merrily from behind his half-moon glasses.

"We all have time Harry Potter. It is simply up to us to decide what to do with it."

A silence fell across the ghostly white King's Cross.

"… Did you… Did you just quote Lord of the Rings at me?"

The twinkle fell away, as Dumbledore gave a disappointed pout.

"Ah, read that did you? No doubt I have Miss Granger to thank for being found out." The aged wizard sighed sadly.

"Sir." Harry said a little more forcefully, drawing the attention of the headmaster back to him. "I have a lot of questions, and I want answers. I deserve answers."

Dumbledore gazed at him over his glasses, the twinkles now noticeably absent, as he fixed his student with a heavy gaze. Harry did his best to not look away first or to shuffle with his feet, though it kept getting increasingly difficult as time slowly ticked by.

Finally Dumbledore looked away with a resigned look on his face, giving another heavy sigh. Nodding to himself, the currently dead headmaster answered the young wizard.

"Very well, my boy. I think, having come at the end of your journey, it is only right to know how and why it started."

Dumbledore walked over to one of the pristine white benches lining the platform they had been walking along, gently sitting down and patting the seat beside him with a genial smile. Cautiously Harry followed him, sitting down and awkwardly wringing his hands, until he noticed what he had been doing and resolutely clasped them together.

If Dumbledore noticed, he didn't mention it, apparently content to simply stare ahead of him, obviously waiting for Harry to start asking his questions.

Harry made to do just that, and then suddenly found that he couldn't. There was just so much. So much that had happened, so many things that had led to this moment, that had shaped him into who he was today, where could he possibly start?

At the beginning of course.

Harry licked his lips, cleared his throat and croaked out his first question.

"The Dursleys."

Dumbledore inclined his head towards him, silently asking for clarification by raising a single eyebrow.

Swallowing nervously, Harry elaborated.

"Why? Why put me in with them? They hated me. I was absolutely miserable for eleven years of my life, and every single summer after that. I know for a fact that the Weasley's and Professor Lupin would have loved to take me in."

Dumbledore nodded sadly, gently stroking his long flowing beard.

"Let me start by saying Harry, that I had truly hoped that your mother's sister would have welcomed you into her home. Not expected it, of course, but I had hoped for it. Sadly though, it would appear that Minerva's observation of them being 'the worst sort of Muggles' was truer than she could have thought.

Now, why the Dursleys? Why not another family? Your parents had many friends, after all, and you are correct in thinking that many would have taken them in without a second thought. Which is precisely the reason why I couldn't put you with them."

Seeing Harry confused look, Dumbledore explained.

"You must understand, Harry, we were on the losing side of the War. Voldemort and his Dark forces had gripped the Wizarding World in terror, and had for all intents and purposes toppled the Ministry. Only Hogwarts stood tall, a bastion against the Darkness, and my Order of the Phoenix gave everything they had in fighting it alongside me."

Dumbledore paused, grief clear in his sad eyes.

"Far more than I ever would have asked of them to give. Far more than they ever should have had to give."

There fell a brief pause, as the ancient wizard tried to recollect himself. Harry didn't really know how to react, or how to give any comfort, so he simply kept quiet.

After a few, deep breaths, Dumbledore continued, though his voice was noticeably subdued.

"But we were hopelessly outnumbered, and the very nature of Magic, both Dark and Light, meant that we were, to use a Muggle term, hopelessly outgunned as well."

Harry frowned in confusion.

"Sir?"

Dumbledore appeared surprised by the question, looking as if he had been caught up in his reminiscing.

"Yes, my boy?"

"What do you mean, the nature of Dark and Light Magic?"

Dumbledore blinked a few times, before smiling generously.

"Ah, I forgot you probably have not been taught that yet. Now, how to best explain it?" the aged wizard hummed to himself, once more stroking his long white beard.

"Magic and emotions are very closely tied, Harry. Darkness of course is tied to the negative emotions, such as fear and hatred. Light magic on the other hand is tied to positive emotions, such as happiness and love."

Harry blinked a few times in surprised.

"You mean… Magic is like the Force?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly again as he leaned a little closer to Harry, winking slyly, while giving a secretive smile.

"It is truly amazing, just how clever Squibs can be, is it not?"

Harry couldn't help but grin back at his headmaster.

Straightening himself again, Dumbledore picked up where he had left off.

"Much like in the Force, the Dark side of Magic, fueled by, and fueling in return, negative emotions is very much suited for strife and combat. Light Magic, on the other hand, is mostly used in healing, or in the tending to growing things, such as nature based Magic.

This meant, that whenever we engaged in combat with the Death Eaters, we, the Light, always had to hold back, using fairly standard spells, fueled more by our willpower and knowledge, than the far more powerful Light Magic which is fueled by emotion, simply because such magic would be rather useless on the battlefield.

There is also the fact that we simply couldn't use Dark Magic. It is a terrible seductress, Harry, mostly because it does exactly what it promises you in its soft whispers. It will give you all the power you can possibly desire, but once you finally have obtained it, and look at your reflection in the mirror, you will hardly recognize the creature staring back at you. Dark Magic can twist a person, Harry, bringing out all of the darkness we all carry within ourselves, while extinguishing all the good that we could do; even if we sought power to do good with in the first place.

The Death Eaters on the other hand, had no such restrictions. They had already giving themselves to the Darkness within them, and did not need to fear any corruption. Their hatred, fueled by the terror and fear they wrought, powered their spells and gave them access to several Dark spells and Magic which were devastating in battle. One curse in particular."

Unbidden, Harry's hand reached up to trace the feint scar that was slashed onto his forehead.

"The Killing Curse" he softly mumbled.

Dumbledore nodded gravely, the twinkle in his eyes once again having died out.

"Indeed. Each time, our people would venture out to do battle, armed with stunners and the like, knowing they would face wizards and witches who would use the foulest and most craven of spells one can think of. They would use their hate to fuel a spell against which there was no defense, and which none had survived. And still they went out and fought, because it was the right thing to do. Even now, I have absolutely no doubt that every single one of them would have been capable of retrieving Godric's sword from the Sorting Hat without any trouble at all."

Again a silence fell, as Harry mulled over the older wizard's words, while Dumbledore himself was once more staring ahead, though his posture was somewhat slumped and his face drawn by grief.

"Sir, is it really true? That only Dark Magic can be used in battle, and not Light Magic?"

At this, Dumbledore's posture straightened, and he looked at Harry with a beaming smile that made him look ten years younger.

Which still left him really old, but that's neither here nor there.

"Oh I wouldn't say so, my boy. You see, while Dark Magic is very destructive indeed, it is no match against the most powerful forms of Light Magic."

Harry perked up at this. Something that was more powerful than the hate-fueled Dark Magic, than the Killing Curse itself? Maybe it could give him an edge against Voldemort and his army.

"What is it, sir?" he asked hopefully.

Dumbledore chuckled warmly, his smile getting even brighter.

"Love, my boy. No matter how strong your rage is, no matter how much terror you spread, it can never be a match against the Light Magic of Love."

Harry's face fell. So much for an edge in battle.

"Love?" the young wizard laughed bitterly.

"You're saying that I can defeat Voldemort with my Love!?" Harry said scornfully, twisting to glare at his headmaster with blazing green eyes.

He was surprised to see Dumbledore still smiling gently at him, apparently unfazed at his outburst.

"I would not be so fast to dismiss the power of Love, my boy. After all…" the aged wizard trailed off meaningfully, slowly tracing his eyes up to Harry's scar before looking him in the eye again and winking.

"… it has done so before."

Once more, Harry's fingers traced the most famous scar in Wizarding history.

"Voldemort used one of the most Dark Curses we know, Harry, fueled by his immense hatred and fear of you, and of what you might become. And yet, it was no match against your mother's love for you, and he was vanquished."

Dumbledore gave another wink, before the smile slid off his face, and he gave another sigh.

"Which brings us to your original question. There you were, recently orphaned, and probably the most famous wizard the Wizarding World had ever seen. What was I to do? Of course, my first thought was to send you with one of your father's friends. So, I sent Hagrid to your house, the moment I had realized what had happened, while I went off to gather Remus, Sirius and Peter.

I was waylaid however, by the sheer pandemonium at the Ministry. Without their leader to get them in line, the Dark forces found themselves stuck in their tracks. Tom never really shared his plans with anybody amongst his organization, Harry, simply because he trusted none among them to not betray him. I had to act, before they could get their act together, but by then, the smarter ones had started to dig themselves in, claiming to have been under the Imperius, while others were quickly following in their footsteps.

I tried what I could, my boy, but all I managed to ensure was that they were unable to freely continue their reign of terror. Of course, it was only later that I realized that many of them had managed to worm their way into positions of power once more, all of them preparing for the eventual return of their Dark Lord. By then, the situation had turned into a cold war, waiting for either the Dark Lord to return, or for you to prove yourself as the Champion of the Light that you have shown yourself to be.

But on that day, I simply fought to have a semblance of a Ministry up and running once more."

Dumbledore paused, grief once more clearly on his face as he recalled the next part of his story.

"And then I learned that not all of the Dark Lord's followers were content with simply waiting for his return. A distraught looking Alastor, covered in new wounds and looking paler than I had ever seen him, stumbled from the Floo in the Ministry Halls, not really appearing as if he was even aware of where he was, and stammering incoherently."

Dumbledore clasped his hands, the long and gnarled fingers folding neatly next to each other. Harry was shocked to see tears brimming in the aged wizard's eyes.

"He had just apprehended the Lestranges. Alice and Frank… they were… they were not in good shape."

Dumbledore trailed off once more, and Harry didn't interrupt. He knew what had happened to the parents of Neville, and had always thought that between the two of them, the shy boy had drawn the shorter straw. To see his parents, but to know they didn't really see him… Harry suppressed a shudder.

No, if Dumbledore needed his time, then Harry understood.

Dumbledore gave another sigh (he did that a lot, Harry noticed) and continued.

"As you can probably imagine, I, along with the rest of the Order, were quite shaken up at the news and were completely caught up in the following rush of events. In all honesty, I had quite forgotten about you at that point. Of course, that didn't last long. It was then that I heard what had happened to Peter and Sirius, though of course the truth would only come out almost thirteen years later.

So there I was, desperately trying to keep a World in chaos together, keep the forces of Dark from grabbing more power than they had already managed to grab, and one very important child. So, where could I leave you where I knew you would be safe? With poor Remus? The man had, in one night, lost two of his best friends to death, along with one of those friend's lovely wife, had lost another two to torture, and had learned that his only remaining friend had betrayed his other friend and was the cause for their deaths.

I don't think he was sober for a full week, and I still cannot find it in myself to blame the poor boy. So, as much as it would hurt him, I could not give him custody of you. It would not be healthy for either of you, I believe.

Your Godfather was in Azkaban, and only Peter knew of his innocence, and he was at the moment a rat. So, that also wasn't a possibility. I'm not sure if you know this or not, but Alice Longbottom, Neville's mother, was supposed to be your Godmother, but… well, I suppose we both know that after that day, that wasn't a possibility either.

The Weasleys then? You would be hard pressed to find a family more entrenched in the Light side of Magic. But, Molly and Arthur had a young child of their own to take care of, not to mention the other children they already had. Molly was still grieving the loss of her brothers to the Death Eaters, and Arthur was desperately trying to make end meets in a World that was in shambles. Money was tight for them then, Harry, and I would not burden them further with another child-"

"That wouldn't have mattered!"

Dumbledore looked at Harry in surprise, caught off guard by the young man's sudden outburst. Harry felt his cheeks become flaming red, but he set his jaw and stubbornly pressed on.

"It wouldn't have mattered to me! You know I don't care about money, sir, and if they needed more them I would gladly give them whatever they needed from my own vault!" Harry said forcefully, chest heaving in emotion.

Dumbledore looked stunned for a few moments, before his eyes began to twinkle madly once more.

"I know, my boy, I know. And I cannot tell you how much it warms my heart to see the loyalty you have towards your friends.

But," Dumbledore said, his voice going a little sterner, "you should ask yourself: would they have taken the money?"

Harry opened his mouth to immediately reply, but found that he couldn't. Would the Weasleys have taken his money, even when their own would have run out? Yes, they would have, he realized, but they would only take as much as was needed to make sure that Harry got the best of the best, and they wouldn't have taken a single Knut for themselves, no matter how much they needed it. Molly would probably whack him around the head with a frying pan if he insisted.

He gave a small, defeated shake of his head. Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, stroking his silvery beard, before continuing with his story.

"And that's without even considering the fact that most in the Wizarding World knows where they live; had I put you with them, and like you, I have no doubt they would have taken you in as one of their own, then within the year the Dark Forces would have launched an attack.

But then, many other Wizarding families shared the same problem; I either couldn't be sure they would keep your best interest at heart, or I couldn't trust their ability to keep you safe. No, the Wizarding World was not safe for you; you had to disappear, but where?

The Muggle World was looking like the best option; I briefly used my ICW contacts to see if you could perhaps have been taken abroad, but none of the other Wizarding Worlds would take you in out of fear for an international conflict. Voldemort was very much a British problem, and the rest of the World would rather keep it that way."

"Sir, why did you not take me in?"

It was the first time that Harry could remember the Headmaster look absolutely baffled. With wide eyes and open mouth, Dumbledore gaped at Harry, before an enormous grin split his face, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Ah, Harry, that… Thank you, my boy, for such a glowing vote of confidence."

The aged wizard chuckled, before giving a sad shake of his head.

"I'm afraid, though, that wouldn't have been an option. Disregarding the fact that I'm an old man doing the job of three men half my age, the forces of Dark would have raised a pandemonium. The possible next champion of the Light, fostered by the current one? They would have blamed me of hoarding power, would have tried to tear me down in every possible way.

Whether at the Dumbledore residence or at Hogwarts, they would come screaming for my head. I'm rather attached to it, you know, and would rather not lose it. But the more pressing concern would be, that if I went down, the Light would as well. The Order would be leaderless, and Hogwarts would be in the claws of the Dark. Tom would return to a World that did not have the means to oppose him.

I could not let that happen. No, Harry, I was perhaps the worst choice for a foster parent, though when I held you in my arms at 4 Privet Drive, I almost reconsidered. It was not the best choice, but it was the safest one. None in the Wizarding World knew where your mother's sister lived, and should they find out, then I had a decent case in court, should they choose to legally challenge me, for you to remain with your last living blood relatives."

Harry furrowed his brow at that.

"That would hold up in court, sir? It seems like a rather… flimsy reason."

Dumbledore's mustache quivered as the aged wizard smiled.

"Perhaps. But, as everybody who has heard a Death Eater speak, blood is rather important to wizards. They would not challenge a blood claim, because the only way to overturn such a claim would be to accept that blood doesn't really matter; something that they would never be able to do. Just look at dear Mister Longbottom; Augusta used much the same reasoning to obtain custody of her grandson, and it worked for her as well."

A thoughtful silence fell between the two wizards, one of them deep in thought, the other apparently content to simply study the ghostly white architecture of King's Cross Station.

"So…" Harry started thoughtfully, "I was put with 'the worst sort of Muggles' instead of Wizards because I was a danger to every other Wizarding family that would take me in, or they could be a danger to me. And I was put with the Dursleys specifically, because it was the most legal thing that you could think of."

Dumbledore sighed and gave a sad nod.

"I'm sorry, Harry, for all that you have suffered for the decision I made on that day, but I still ask for your forgiveness. Like I said, I had to restore the Wizarding World before Tom's forces gathered their wit, all the while dealing with the tragedies surrounding your and Neville's parents, and Peter's betrayal. Under the circumstances, it was the best that I could come up with."

Dumbledore half-turned in order to look Harry in the eye, over the edge of his half-moon glasses, a serious expression on his face.

"Can you forgive an old man for choosing the best of a series of bad solutions?"

Harry didn't look away, this time not needing to suppress any fidgeting as he seriously considered the older wizard's question. Suddenly he let out a sly grin.

"Can I think about it? After all, we still have time, right?"

Dumbledore blinked a few times in surprise, before he let out a bellowing laugh that seemed to fill the empty train station.

"Indeed we do, my boy, indeed we do." The Headmaster chuckled.

Once more, silence reigned as the two wizards sat unhurriedly on the bench on an empty platform in the ghostly King's Cross Station, having all the time in the world.

AN: So, what did you think? This chapter is a response to the "Dumbledore put Harry with the Dursleys because of the evil lulz". The way I see it, it was the best he could do in a bad situation. Let me know what you think :D

Fun Fact: J.K. Rowling is the only person in history to willingly go from being a billionaire to a millionaire, due to giving a lot of her fortune to various charties. That's one awesome lady :P