'Farewell to all my greatness' - Henry VIII
Laboured footsteps crept along the cold stone floor, slowly shuffling up the few steps that led to the ornate desk, which stood proud against the backdrop of many books and portraits. Sighing almost inaudibly, Albus took a seat in his chair and closed his eyes, feeling the fatigue setting in, washing over his body like a soft wave. Upon opening his eyes again, which no longer held the sparkle they used to - a fact Minerva had noticed but not mentioned - Albus caught a glimpse of his blackened hand, his cursed hand and he inwardly berated himself.
He was old - a fate he was reminded of daily - from his now white hair to the age spots which had slowly started to appear on his almost translucent skin, but he had not been ready to say goodbye to the world. Had he not been so weak, so desperate to believe that the ring could bring back his family, he would not be in the position he was in at that moment – knowing his death was coming, most likely in the next coming hours.
He regretted that in that moment of weakness, he would leave Harry to face his demons alone. He knew the boy could handle it – he had become a brilliant young man and he had every faith that Harry would win the raging war - but in a paternal feeling he had never felt before, he felt as though he was letting him down. Albus never saw children on his horizon, more interested in the power and fame that came with being as brilliant as he was, yet Harry had come along, alone and so loving and Albus felt as though he was his own flesh and blood.
He only hoped that Harry would become the man that he never was.
Sighing once more and glancing around the office that would no longer belong to him, where he would only exist in a portrait on the wall, he closed his eyes again and his old mind become his own internal pensieve, transporting him back to memories of old.
Memories he would never forget.
His mind played back pictures of his early life, the life which shaped him for the rest of his years. His sister Ariana, so quiet and kind, left battered and broken for life. His wonderful sister so scarred she could cause devastation in the blink of an eye. Percival, his father, so hell bent on revenge he would cause the family to become outcasts, known only for his retaliation on a group of muggle boys who had caused their family so much pain. His sentence to Azkaban and his family's move to Godric's Hollow.
The shame of it all.
His shame.
His sense of shame only deepened when he let his mind look upon the face he once loved, the face that had captivated his body and soul and still haunted him to this day– Gellert Grindelwald. He shook his head at those memories that surfaced at the mere mention of that name.
The guilt he felt had never eased, even after so many years had passed.
That night plagued him. He was so caught up in Gellert and his views, flourishing in the feeling that the young boy gave him, allowing him to forget his bitter, irrational resentment towards his siblings. He had been young and had never wanted the responsibility of looking after his family – he wanted to see the world, to become great and shine. He wanted to soar high with Gellert, complete their plans of wizard domination and become Masters of Death although now looking back, he could see that it was never going to materialise.
Hindsight, Albus had learned, was a wonderful thing.
Aberforth had brought his dreams and ideas crashing down. Confronting him about his plans, shouting and telling him he couldn't do it because of himself and Ariana. Albus was angry that night, so infuriated that he, Albus Dumbledore, was being told what to do. He wanted to lash out at Aberforth, his mind raging at the thought of not being able to become the great wizard that Gellert envisioned him to be, the great wizards they could both be. Yet the moment Gellert raised his wand and sent the cruciatus curse in his brother's direction, he had felt a sense of protectiveness come over him.
Spells were sent in all directions and he could not fathom who was aiming at who. He had been vaguely aware of Ariana's presence; her panicked face, her hands flailing everywhere, her wide, frightened eyes. And then time suddenly slowed down. From the corner of his eye, he had watched as his beloved sister dropped to the floor, cold and lifeless and he had felt his heart almost stop. Gellert had fled almost instantly but that did not rid Albus of the guilt he was feeling. Whose curse had it been that killed her? Who was the one responsible for the death of his little sister who had adored him?
His sister was dead and his brother would forever blame him. But what had hit him the hardest, although now looking back he realised that it was a selfish feeling but one he could not help, was the fact that Gellert had abandoned him.
His world had come apart at the seams in that one fitful moment.
Albus opened his eyes slowly and glanced around the room that would soon belong to another. He hoped dearly it would pass down to Minerva, his equal partner in many ways. Their friendship had held him together, kept him from breaking in his most vulnerable times. She may not have known it and he may not have expressed it, but Minerva was part of the glue that kept his old body from shattering into pieces.
Of course, Minerva did not know everything. She had become wise to his actions, his mannerisms and she knew when not to push for answers he did not want to indulge. She knew of his flawless ideas and his greatest feat – defeating Gellert in their last confrontation - but she knew not of his feelings or how it ripped his soul apart to be the one who had to raise his wand against the man he once loved. One, he perhaps, would always love. Or if she did know, she never voiced it out loud – she respected him too much to make him relive that part of his life.
Closing his eyes once more, his mind took him back to the night he last saw his former friend and lost love. Calls for him to finally stand up and save the Wizarding community had become too much to bear and he had finally agreed to face his former friend in a battle which would forever be remembered as the greatest duel ever thought. He himself would be remembered for eternity, a feat that once upon a time, would have made him the happiest wizard alive but now, it held no personal significance.
Those 3 long hours, his mind recalled, had felt like an entire lifetime. The duel was hard but it was made harder by the fact it was Gellert who stood opposite him. He felt his heart throb painfully every time he landed blow on his equal in so many ways. His unrequited lover fought hard but Albus could always feel the hesitation on both sides, the unwillingness to hurt each other after all they had been through – a friendship like theirs was hard to forget. And when he finally won, finally relinquished Gellert's control over the Wizarding world, he felt no satisfaction. Even the Elder wand was no consolation prize.
He had felt broken in the months that followed, like something inside him was missing. He braved the outside world with a false smile and his heart was only partly sated when he was awarded the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts. He had never felt as at home as he did at the castle and was forever grateful for the seat he sat in today.
Opening his eyes once more, he focused his eyes on the large door, which would open any minute with Harry behind them. He could hear Harry's quick footsteps, the eagerness in his steps and he knew that the boy had done what he'd asked of him. Albus smiled a sad sort of smile and stood from his desk, heading towards the cabinet that held the pensieve, his steps more lively than they had been earlier.
It was soon to be over, his existence in this life. He could feel it in his bones and there was a tension in the air, a dark aura slowly suffocating the castle. He would ask Harry this one last thing, one thing he wished he did not have to before he would depart this world with the help of Severus, who he knew would not do so willingly but would do it all the same. He could not have his death fall on the Malfoy boy, he was too young to have that kind of weight on his soul. He knew what it felt like, even if he did not know whose spell was the one who caused Ariana's death.
"Professor, I got it."
As Harry came bursting through the large oak doors, Albus smiled at the young boy who would soon save the Wizarding world, much like he had and he felt his heart soar.
Harry would be fine without him, he decided to himself, as watched him talk animatedly about how he managed to obtain Horace's memory with the use of Felix Felicis, clearly proud that he had completed his task.
Yes, Albus mused quietly, Harry would be fine without him.