Chapter 1: Discoveries Profound

It has been several weeks since the death of the young couple Lily and James Potter. The wizardry world, at least as far as the borders of the British Isles, were still in celebration at the fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort, while simultaneously mourning the death of two brave individuals, who sacrificed their lives to put a stop to the now deceased Dark Lord, while at the same time revering them for giving birth to their savoir, Harry Potter.

One such individual, whom while not celebrating the death of the self proclaimed Dark Lord, but known only to a few, himself included, of his true birth name of Tom Marvolo Riddle, was still in his own way enjoying the man's fall. Holding himself at least partially responsible for the man's fall into disgrace and darker aspects of magic, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore was one of the first to be pleased with the news of the man's defeat. This happiness was however offset by the passing of two of his favorite pupils, and close friends, Lily and James.

Anguished at their passing, though pleased that their son survived, Dumbledore was of two minds of the situation. Remembering the prophecy that the newly hired Divinations Professor Sybill Trelawney had given close to a little more than a year ago, and that one young Severus Snape had listened in too, Dumbledore was certain that it had meant Lily and James young scion. There was another possibility in the Longbottoms, as they had conceived a child at the same time, but considering James' family's high providence, in addition to their strong stance within the Light, he held no doubts that Voldemort would choice them as the parents of his would-be killer. That wasn't to say that the Longbottoms were any less important or less of a threat to Voldemort at the given time, but there was just something about the Potters that made them shine brighter and stand taller over Alice and Frank.

In the end, his belief had been proven correctly, though he could not help but feel that Snape's own report to Voldemort later that same evening undoubtedly, could have possibly influenced the man's choice. It had been no secret to anyone that knew either boy that James and Severus did not like each other, and flat out despised one another. Whatever their reasons and differences, it was their mutual affection for Lily that brought them in confrontation the most. Both had romantic intentions to the girl since they first laid eyes on her, though James' obnoxious behavior during his youth had colored Lily's opinion of him slightly, and his rivalry and dislike for Severus only served to paint him in a much more unappealing light. He would not call what James did to Severus as bullying, if only because Severus would retaliate in equal, if not occasionally greater measure. He had of course had to put their differences aside, but he had a school to run and a great many students to look after, and focusing his attention on just two were unbecoming and unprofessional. In the end however, he recalled sadly, Severus, whom had been leaning towards the wrong crowd with already questionable motives and history with past dark lords, had fallen in with them completely when, during his fifth year, Lily had for reasons still unknown to him, broke off complete contact with the young Slytherin, a friendship that she and he both were given grief over from their respective houses. From there, he path to the side of darkness was not only assured, but inevitable.

But that still did not stop the young man, whose crush had already evolved beyond the point of mere infatuation, from continuing to adore Lily.

It was the very likely the only reason he had arrived at the gates of Hogwarts that same night, still dressed in his Death Eater garbs, asking to see him. He had admitted to speaking to Voldemort about the prophecy, how he had subtle attempted to manipulate Tom into attacking the Potters, just to fulfill a selfish young man's desire to gain the woman that held his heart.

Knowing Tom as he did, he was sure that he would have attacked both the Potters and the Longbottoms at any rate due to the mere possibility that he could be potentially defeated by one of their scions, and that he knew exactly what Severus had been attempting to do right from the beginning when he made his report. Albus found it relatively possible that Tom struck the Potters first more out of convince, and to teach Severus a listen in never attempting to manipulate him.

He probably informed Severus as such, and in an act of desperation, went to him, the only wizard alive that Voldemort truly feared, in the hopes of saving Lily. He had no delusions that Severus did not care for James, or his unborn child, despite the fact that half the boy's blood came from Lily's. He also had no misgivings that should he be unable to keep his promise of protection, that Severus would turn against him as well. Severus, if nothing else, proved that his first and only priority was himself.

And in a time of war, Dumbledore could not afford such people with individualistic beliefs into his fold. Not without the proper precautions.

He had forced upon Snape a Magical Oath of servitude, and from there, an Unbreakable Vow to never reveal any and all information he would learn from the Order of Phoenix, Dumbledore's own privately owned and funded group of talented witches and wizards, who wanted to see the newest threat to Magical Britain defeated. Severus had given both willingly, though he imagined that in the young man's rather undeveloped mind that by doing so, he was proving himself a righteous and incorruptible figure that Lily would fawn over. He probably did not realize the full implications of the fact that he had given up his freedom and sold himself into a life of slavery, and he Albus, the master.

With a spy within the ranks of Tom's Death Eaters, Dumbledore soon gained some much needed vital information that he utilized to the best effect. Of course, Albus wasn't a man who didn't keep his word. True to their agreement, even if Dumbledore with the oaths he had invoked from Severus, and with their specific wording, he did not have too, he still cared very deeply for his two former students, and informed them of the prophecy and their future child's role in it. They were frightened of the implications, not just for themselves, but their unborn baby as well, a concern that Dumbledore shared. He had recommended that they go into hiding, preferably under the power of a Fidelus Charm. They agreed, and Dumbledore volunteered his services, but they declined. Headmaster of Hogwarts, Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and Supreme Mugwamp, he had enough respnsibilties as it was, and they did not wish to burden him with anymore. He was touched by their concern, and though felt he should still be the one to be their Secret Keeper, allowed them to make their own choice. He had believed when they had chosen Sirius Black, a longtime childhood friend of James, that they would be truly safe from Voldemort's grasp.

Now, two weeks following their death, Dumbledore knew better. The man turned out to be a traitor of the most horrific sort, and had followed the footsteps of his predecessors, and his younger brother, Regulus, in submitting himself to Lord' Voldemort's power. How he had managed to avoid scrutiny and the wards he had installed to prevent Death Eater entrance into the ever changing headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was a small matter that dug at the back of his mind and conscious, as well as how he had not only managed to fool Lily and James, but also somehow was able to direct the attention to Remus as a possible leak to Voldemort. It was another regret of his, and much like the others, much too late to change.

And Peter…

Not of the religious sort, partly due to his ability to utilize magic, a feat dubbed impossible by the mundane community without the aid of lights, smoke, and mirrors, and the views of various religions and their tolerance of magic itself, Dumbledore bowed his head, and made a silent prayer that wherever the foolish, but nonetheless brave young man was, he was in a better place alongside Lily and James. It was all he could offer, and he knew that even with a Merlin 1st Class under the now dead man's name, it would not do Mrs. Pettigrew, the young man's only surviving relative, much good despite what the Minister may believe, and sent one for the woman to somehow gain the strength to move past such a tragedy…

Not even having Sirius locked up in Azkaban stopped the dull ache in the old wizard's heart, as now drowning in his guilt from his dealings with Grindelwald, and the death of his beautiful sister, Astoria, the fall of his former pupil, Tom, and now the death of three more, at the hands of a young man he had so terribly misguided…

A self decrypting smile grow on the old wizard's face, realizing that if the magical community of Britain truly knew of his actions, guilt, fear, and plans he had made at the arrogant age of seventeen, they would not be hailing him a hero, leader of light, and certainly not asking him time and time again to become Minister of Magic. It was too much power for one man to possess, and the fact that he had in his hands the power of the Elder Wand, and now the Cloak of Invisibility, a facet he now engrained deeply within his guilt (what if he never asked to see the cloak from James? Would it be possible he could have used it, evaded Voldemort and lived past that haunting night?), showed that he could not be trusted with power of any sort, and yet they, the witches and wizards of Britain, still clambered to him, turning themselves into stone pedestals t ascend and gain such power. It frightening on the utmost basic levels of his human nature…but at the same time, it called to him, seductive and alluring, bringing to mind every boyhood fantasy he held until the untimely death of his sister. With put a single step, a leap of faith, he could possibly attain such dreams all for his own…

By chance, he checked one of the many instruments that he had in place that checked whether Harry was at Privet Drive, breaking his much darker thoughts. Loath as he was to leave the boy there, the Blood Wards that he had enacted that would strengthen the protection his mother gave him, could be done little where else. Petunia, being the only relative that could claim any real familial ties to the child, was the only choice he could possibly consider. There had been Sirius, as he was related to the Potters, thus Harry, distantly, but with the reveal of his betrayal of the Potters, and the murder of Pettigrew, who had tried in a foolhardy attempt to avenge them and confront Black on his own. Remus held no ties to the boy whatsoever, and even if he did, he was a werewolf, and despite how good of a man he may be, Dumbledore could not in good conscious leave the boy in his care. Even if he used every precaution necessary to prevent any possible injury to the boy during his monthly transformations, there was still a chance he could terribly maim, if not kill the infant. And if by some miracle the boy survived, he would forever be tainted by the curse of lycanthropy, a stigma that would follow him until his dying days. And now mourning the death of three of his friends, and the betrayal of another, Dumbledore found it unwise to even attempt to broach the subject with the young man. Best leave him to grieve for the losses he suffered, and perhaps put him in later contact with Harry, should he ever ask for the boy's whereabouts. Having him sent to one of the many magical families that wanted to adopt him was also a risk. While obvious names like the Malfoys, Crabbes, Goyles, and Crowes were put out of consideration from the get-go, other families such as the Greengrass, Notts, were a coin toss. He did not know of their true allegiances during the war, as they had remained neutral, though a few of 'black sheep' as had entered the fight beside Tom. Other families, such as the Bones and Weaselys would have been perfect, as Dumbledore was rather close to the Weaselys, particularly Arthur and Molly, whom he had taught during his time as Transfiguration Professor. Unfortunately for them, they had just recently given birth to a baby girl, and a year before that, their youngest son, Ronald. Already less fortunate then most pureblood families and putting one student through school, and another one in a little over a year was already stretching their thin finances. Having them feed another mouth, and put another child through school would be too much for them. He'd of course given them access to the Potter Trust vault if the need of money was that much of a concern, and simply write it down as a loan that he would reimburse Harry once he reached age eleven and gained access to his vault. While the title of Magical Guardian went to Sirius, due to his imprisonment and betrayal of Harry's parents, the title and magic invoked with it went to the next in line for the title. Since Dumbledore was somebody they had trusted deeply, and he being closest to his former pupils aside from possibly Minerva, who needed time to grieve, the title went to him. But he already knew the Weasely's answers to that possible suggestion, and would refuse the offer. He himself had made numerous offers of funds from his own family accounts, none of which he had touched since his dear Astoria passed, and as Head of the House of Dumbledore, his brother could not gain access without his permission, which even if he gave, his brother would most likely refuse.

His thoughts halted as an ice cold feeling of dread crept down his spine.

The device that he had activated, just gave off readings that were worsen then bad. Beyond terrible. Horrific even.

Harry Potter was not at Privet Drive. In fact, the Blood Wards that were activated that night collapsed within a few hours, as Harry never entered the home, thus annulling the magic binding it as with no Potter to house, the Wards served no purpose, nor means to sustain itself.

The possible scenarios running through the man's mind were not the most pleasant, and in a blow of his cloak, disappeared from his office with small 'pop'.

Arriving at the pathway leading to #4 Privet Drive, Dumbledore noticed immediately that nothing was amiss, and that the house was perfectly intact. It ruled out the thought of a possible attack from Voldemort's followers, whom had somehow managed to track Harry to his relatives.

This left the possibility of a kidnapping. Though they have not been seen in Magical Britain since he was a young child, it was possible, although rather faint, that a slaver could have found Harry and taken him away to be bartered. He had before leaving the child at #4 to place a series of charms which would not only keep Harry asleep until morning, but also warm throughout the cold November evening. He had also installed a variety of spells that caused Harry to be invisible to all but a blood relative, which would break upon contact. Anti-muggle wards keyed to only Petunia ensured that even if someone with good intentions would not be able to take Harry away, but old as he was, and much to his embarrassment, overconfident, much due to his use of the Elder Wand, had caused him to not anticipate a magical presence that could have easily broken through his charms that were not former followers of Voldemort.

That mistake might have just cost the magical world of its greatest hero and living legend, as well as the Potter line as well. Fewer pureblood families were in existence, dying off each and every year, marrying off into subservient houses or marrying their cousins and second cousins to a point where it was hard to discern if the woman who gave birth to you was your mother or your sister. The Malfoy family was an example of the former, and the Blacks of the latter. Both were rather prominent houses not two centuries ago, and while still powerful in their own rights, were mere shadows of their former selves. With the incarceration of all possible Black heirs, it left a vacuum of power, which if the current situation had not presented itself, Dumbledore would have turned his attention to as his biggest concern.

And then of course there was Albus' own house, which consisted of only himself and his brother, Aberforth, both of them well beyond the years of fatherhood…

But with the disappearance of Harry, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, it would have to sit on the backburner until such a time Dumbledore could focus his entirety on it.

For the moment, there were more pressing matters to attend too.

Striding to the doors of the house, Dumbledore did not bother knocking, simply knocking the door off its hinges, wand at the ready to strike at a moment's notice.

He had expected to possibly find several witches and wizards at the ready, wands drawn and ready to fire, perhaps the bodies of Petunia and her family, dead or tortured, having had Harry forcibly taken from their grasp.

He was instead shocked to hear Petunia give a shriek of surprise and terror, her husband, a rather large individual similar to that of an oversized baby whale, his face turning purple, sputtering at the apparent break in. Beside Petunia was a baby, wailing at the cancellation of its meal, which Petunia had been the middle of feeding him. For the briefest of moments, Dumbledore thought the child to be Harry, but disregarded the idea when he found the child to be rather heavyset in comparison to Harry, who was much smaller in comparison.

Realizing that the Dursley's, aside from the recent break-in that he had perpetrated, were no worst for the wear, and that Harry was still nowhere in sight, thus it was not a malfunction on the Ward's part, narrowed his eyes at Petunia, and dove into her mind to reveal the whereabouts of the young Potter scion.

The truth that she showed turned his usual sparkling blue eyes cold and his heart heavy, before they inflamed with the burning fires of fury.

It was at this time that the rather large man had brought himself from his recliner chair, a feat that Dumbledore might have found impressive, given his size, and charged at him with a poker from the fireplace, no doubt intent on causing bodily harm to him.

With a casual flick of his wand, he had sent the man, Vernon apparently as Petunia screamed her husband's name, flying off across the room and into the fireplace, knocking the man out cold and setting his clothing on fire. He walked past the burning man, taking note to douse the flames before they did any real damage, and flicking his wand at the baby, instantly lulling it to sleep.

That act alone snapped Petunia out of her fright filled stance, and into a raging fury that could only be born from a mother who believes her child was in immediate danger.

"MY BABY! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BABY YOU FOUL UNNATURAL FRE-!"

Dumbledore flicked his wand once more, silencing the woman before conjuring a set of ropes, tying the woman to the chair she had been previously sat on while feeding her child, before Dumbledore settled his ice cold blue eyes at her.

"Petunia…you…!"

Dumbledore was a patient man, a trait he had not been born with and learned from the grievances he had suffered from during his long life. Becoming a teacher, and then later Headmaster of a school, had only taught him how to better manage that illusive virtue.

Now, he had no such patience, and was filled only with a burning sensation to force the answers he so sought from the woman's mind, but the thought of pillaging deeper into this fool muggle's mind was too much for him to stomach at the moment.

But even so, it would not stop him from lashing out.

"You gave away your nephew Petunia. Your only nephew, only link to your sister, now dead, and you gave him away. After I explained in great detail the horrors he may face, how he needed a guiding hand, a loving hand, to raise him to be a loving and fair man like Lily would have wanted too. And. You. Gave. Him. Away."

He removed the charm, and stared acidly at the woman, and where he wanted to say a great many things, none of them flattering, he asked the most important question that plagued his mind the minute he found out that Petunia had given up Harry willingly, and based on her emotions from the brief memory, quite happily even.

"Why?"

She had the horrid audacity to look affronted by the question.

"Why? Why give up a child that's not even mine? Why give up a child that has an unnatural and freakish ability, which could possibly endanger my child? Why give up a child that was born of my perfect sister Lily, on account that she couldn't keep her damn legs closed?"

Her tone set Dumbledore on edge, as did her words.

"Do not accuse Lily of such unbecoming behavior in front of me again Petunia. While it is clear that you hold no affection for you sister, respect the dead as they lay."

Petunia merely spat at the ground near Dumbledore's feet in reply.

"Respect the dead? I hold those who passed and close to my heart dearly Professor, but that wretched whore, is not among them."

Petunia shrieked as the fine china in her house exploded, and the various food she had been preparing before her precious Dudley had cried for attention setting themselves aflame.

Dumbledore, who ignored the accidental bit of magic, something he would have been embarrassed about under more dignified circumstances, gave Petunia a dark look, one that only Grindelwald had seen, which had led to his defeat, and later, imprisonment.

"I warned you once already Petunia. I will not do so a second time."

"Lily took everything that ever mattered away from me! You don't know what it's like, to work hard for the acknowledgment of your parents, to gain their love when it was oh so freely given to your sibling on the account that they were different. That they could do something you could not, that because since they were special, they needed to be looked after closely, loved all the more so they wouldn't feel out of place, while you end up feeling the one unwelcomed in your own home!"

Dumbledore felt a twinge within his old heart, and vaguely recalled a time of a young man, whose excellence in school and natural brilliance was overshadowed by a rather introverted, and slightly off young girl…

"I worked hard in school, got good grades, never stayed out after curfew, never went out with boys, never broke a single rule in their house, and where did it get me? No friends, lack of a social life, sick on occasion from late nights used to study to get top marks, and even a decline in my appearance. And despite all of it, my parents never acknowledged me aside from being a net to throw their own insecurities and problems on regarding their precious Lily."

Dumbledore had by this point lowered his wand, listening the Petunia's rant which had began anger and self-righteous, now moving on in a sobbing, broken, and pitiful tone of voice that showed how very little he knew of Petunia outside of what Lily told her, and giving him a look into the family life of those related to the witches and wizards of the world who lacked the ability they did. At the same time, he was lost in his own past, seeing a similarly bitter young man with the world before him, confined, trapped against his will in his ancestral home, ashamed of his brother and father, and angry at his mother and sister…

"I visited them when they were dying Headmaster. I went to them, with my own life in my hands, with a variety of achievements and accomplishments, and was ready to accept my parents for seeing the error of their ways, and reconnecting. Instead, what do I get, but another concern about Lily. Not me, the daughter whom had not been in contact with them for four years, but the frivolous witch who could have bewitched them to do anything she wanted without a moment's hesitation."

If Dumbledore was feeling any of that earlier anger as he had at the moment, he would have no doubt fiercely denied that Lily would do such things as ensnare her own parents in a spell to have their complete and total devotion. He didn't believe that she would, or even allow it a passing fancy, but then to a young girl who is slowly witnessing her parent's ever increasing fascination with their youngest daughter in favor of ignoring the older one, and with the ability to manipulate the very fabric of reality at her fingertips, he could see where the possibility laid…

"I'll say to you what I said to them. To hell with you. To hell with you, your fellow freaks, to Lily and her moronic husband, and most of all, to hell with that monstrous child that you left on my doorstep! TO HELL WITH ALL OF YOU! DON'T COME NEAR ME OR MY FAMILY AGAIN!"

By this time, tears were pooling heavily down Petunia's hollow cheeks, and Dumbledore felt all fight leave him. He did not like Petunia, and her recent action only reinforced that dislike, but with her rant, her anger, came understanding.

He stared hard at her, trying in vain to find a single trace of the small girl that had begged him to let her into Hogwarts to be with her sister, to bear upon her the gift of magic so that they may not be apart.

He found none within this misshapen shell sitting before him, and it truly broke his heart. Petunia may now be a woman of ill repute, and further than that, perhaps even mentally unhinged, but she was a woman that had suffered a great many wrongs in her life, and it had wore her down to the point where bitterness, anger, and hatred were the only things that could sustain her. Without them, she had nothing to justify the years she had spent under the neglect, which in turn would make her struggles and life meaningless.

He glanced at the still slumbering toddler, then at Petunia, and closed his eyes, regret filling his form. He had never truly cared for Lily's home life, and when he had found out that she and her sister were estranged, he should have made an effort to get them to talk, at least by Lily's hand. The situation reminded him too much of the turmoil still fresh between him and his own brother…

Unbinding the woman, Dumbledore extracted the location of where she sent the boy, alarmed slightly by the choice, though not entirely surprised. A real orphanage would have required paperwork and information that Petunia was undoubtedly reluctant to give out, but he found it ironic that Harry had landed himself at a church of all places…

With a flick of his wand, he repaired all the damaged china, as well as the blasted door, and even went as far as to levitate the rather large man back onto the chair he had been sitting in earlier, and fixing the fireplace one the man was removed. He would have healed his injuries as well, but despite his skill and long life span, magical healing was still something that he was not very talented with.

Turning his back away from the woman, and making sure that the spell he placed on her son would dissolve within a few minutes, he gazed at the remaining Evans daughter, and whispered genuinely, "It may not mean much coming from me Petunia, but I apologize for the strife you have suffered. Had I known, perhaps I could have done something."

Petunia stared at him, her eyes still shimmering with tears, but not obscuring the hate they held.

"Thirteen years too late Dumbledore."

He merely nodded his head in response, before turning his gaze away from her and hardening his heart once more.

"I know."

And with a blow of his cloak, he was gone.

Dumbledore arrived outside the rather decrypted looking church, and began his long stride down the dirt path leading to the rather ominous oak doors leading inside the church.

Dumbledore's nerves, which were already flayed to a certain degree, only ignited further at the fact that he was entering unhallowed grounds for all magical kind.

With the prominent rise of organized religion, particularly Christianity, witches and wizards found themselves facing a new danger outside the occasional goblin war and witch hunts that the muggles would occasionally start every few decades or so.

Templers, Free Masons, religious zealots who under the belief of serving a higher being, a higher purpose, would amass in thousands, dressed in magical resistant armor, carrying weapons and variety of skills that counteracted the magical energies that every witch and wizard held, all for one singular purpose.

Genocide.

To the church, and perhaps the Templers themselves, they undoubtedly believed that there was nothing wrong with their actions. In fact, they may have even felt justified by it.

But for the magical men and women they hunted down, it was a living hell.

Long before his time, Dumbledore still heard the stories of the blood that was shed during those horrific times during his youth, a means in which his mother would attempt to scare him into behaving, lest the Templers come into their home and take him away. It was a tale that had scared him until he had become a student of Hogwarts, and later an amusing memory from better times in his youth.

Now however, it only brought back primitive fears that made Dumbledore feel like a small child again, despite his age, knowledge, and skill. The only true beneficial acts that came from those times was the organization of the magical communities into separate states, and increased muggle/magical relations at the time, in which several witches and wizards would defend various small villages and towns from destruction against invading Templar forces. Of course, the continuing crusades, and then degrading relations between the mundane and magical in the fifteenth century to the seventeenth, in addition to constant witch hunts and deaths of many magical children all ended up contributing to the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, and only after all forms of diplomacy failed.

And even now, many centuries after the events, Dumbledore still found himself slightly afraid of what laid behind those doors, despite the schism that it suffered, in addition to the belief that magic was nothing more than a fairy tale and means for those without the power of science to explain the mysterious of the world. It was primitive, and no doubt partly brought on by the recent war that he found himself expecting the worst, but, as his friend Alastor would say, "constant vigilance…"

He reached the doors, and raising a hand, was about to knock when he heard a Welsh accent speak beside him, startling him from his thoughts.

"Can I help you sir?"

Turning himself around sharply, Dumbledore found himself staring down at a man, probably no older then fifty-five, hair receding slightly, grey with specks of brown, his ice a light blue that bordered on grey, adorned in the black cassock and a white clerical collar, the symbol of the cross adorned around his neck.

Staring down at the much shorter man, Dumbledore tried to press a more intimidating and majestic front, which was cut short as the priest merely glared at him, recognition entering his eyes as his voice breaking through whatever introduction he was about to give.

"I know who you are sir. Supreme Mugwamp, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the supposed Leader of Light and defeater of the former Dark Lord Grindelwald. Beyond that, I know why you are here, and it is a failed endeavor. You cannot have Harry Potter."

The fact that the man, a mere muggle man, knew who he was startled Albus greatly. The fact that he knew why he was here, and who he was searching for, caused him to draw his wand at the ready, a deep red igniting the wooden tip.

"You are very well informed, and I find myself uneasy for it. Please, hand the child over to me, and I will leave quietly. Otherwise…"

Sparks flew out of the end of his wand to annunciate his point.

The man merely scoffed slightly at his threat.

"How predictable. A magical, threatening a mundane and a defenseless one at that, at wand point. And you wonder why the church and the crown hunted you down to near extinction…"

Dumbledore's blood ran cold, and he quickly stowed his wand back within his sleeves. He had undoubtedly just broken a great many laws with that stunt, and passed upon the man's rather steely look, any chance at peaceful negotiation.

"My apologizes. It is not often that a muggle knows who I am, nor my titles. With a war not ended only a few weeks prior, understand my rather aggressive response."

The priest merely glared at him response before growled in a low tone of voice, "Only because the Lord demands the forgiveness of his children's sins, and despite your…"gifts", you are still one of the Lord's children."

Dumbledore in response bowed his head in form of apology, before getting back to the matter at hand.

"Yes, as I have heard on a few occasions. To the previous topic, yes, I am indeed here for young Harry, though it does trouble me that you were able to deduce his name."

The priest scoffed slightly, an undignified noise that Dumbledore was certain under normal and possibly more pleasant circumstances would have not left the man's lips.

"We are not as blind as you would like us to think, Headmaster. The Vatican still has eyes and ears in your world, just as you do in ours. We know all about this Lord Voldemort, as well as the circumstances of his downfall."

Dumbledore found himself surprised that the church still had enough influence to gain informants in the magical world, though in honest retrospect, he shouldn't have been surprised. The church, even since the time of Merlin and the Founders, had been the magical world's strongest adversary. In a time were religious persecution was the norm and not the exception, and when kings, queens, emperors, and empresses bowed before the might of the church, showing who was the true leader of their lands, killing anyone even accused of being magic was their favorite pastime. Even when such an age has since long gone by, and the magical world has since hidden itself from the eyes of muggles, the fact that the church still kept tabs on them showed that nothing truly has changed in the past few centuries.

"The boy is now under the care of this church, and its practitioners. With no legal guardians, and the boy's aunt as you now identified her as, abandoning him at our doorstep, we took the necessary legal steps to formally adopt him. As of now, he is legally in my custody, and by extensions, the churches'. We know all about the role the boy played in the downfall of this practitioner of dark magic, and if you cared at all for the boy's interest, would have been content to know that he is not only safe, but cherished and loved."

"Be that as it may, I must insist-!"

The man cut him off abruptly, a bit of heat entering his tone of voice.

"Insist all you want Dumbledore. Unlike you and your society that remains hidden in the shadows, we know of the legality of our actions. The boy is ours, and nothing, including your government and vested titles can change that. Short of kidnapping the boy, there is nothing that you can say or do. You hold no authority over the boy, as his magical guardian still remains to be Sirius Black, whom from what hear, is now serving time in that security prison you call Azkaban. And even if you somehow got that issue resolved, our government still is on our side, and upon the possible threat of exposing you and your kind, you will never come back here or try to contact the boy outside your duties as Headmaster of a school that he may or may not attend when he receives his letter."

Today was not turning out to be Dumbledore's best day, but he was not about to give up without a fight.

"You will teach the boy nothing but hatred and scorn for his own natural gifts. He will grow up knowing nothing of his parents, possibly outright hating them and maybe even himself just for having the natural ability to use magic."

The old man gave Dumbledore a cold glare.

"And you would have the boy stay at a household where he would be hated, abused, and possibly even outright killed for that very same thing? I hold no illusions that the woman who brought him here held no love for him, and if she were married, her husband undoubtedly would be no better. We are not fools Dumbledore. The Vatican has since long known the realistic dangers of magic, more than even those gifted with the ability, and have taken many painful steps to instruct those under our care with those abilities to never abuse them for their own betterment. Yes, there have been some rather bleak spots in our history, the Crusades are a prime example of that, but where we have learned and adapted, your community still holds itself to its centuries old ideas and beliefs of the superiority of magic over man. Magic may or may not be Lucifer's gift to humanity, but it is his evil work done with every man and woman who takes their abilities and uses them for the purposes of serving evil. Your 'Voldemort' is simply the latest example, and before that, Grindelwald. Two dark wizards in the past forty years alone and yet your people refuse to take steps to prevent such atrocities from existing!"

The man took a deep breath, trying to stave off the headache that the older wizard was giving to him.

"Besides, you have no decent argument to make any claim that the boy is not safe here. Aside from yourself and the woman, no one else knows the boy is here. I highly doubt that the woman, Petunia you called her, will truly speak of what transpired at her doorstep that fateful day, and should anyone come asking to retrieve the boy by name specifically, I shall know who revealed such information, Albus."

Dumbledore wanted to argue his point that Harry's safety was better left to his devices and powers, but the fact that his former plan in safeguarding the boy backfired, and in such a rather unexpected way, shattered whatever speech or argument he could come up with. In the end, Petunia had chosen her blind anger and resentment at her sister, had let it warp and twist her mind to the point where she would hate her own nephew, just for being the spawn of her recently departed sister.

His new understanding of her plight during her youth belayed any true fury that would have sparked ideas of revenge, but it still did not stop the bitterness he felt as he realized how small his options truly were.

"Perhaps then, we can come to a compromise?"

The man gave him an incredulous look.

"Compromise? There is no compromise. You wish to take the boy, plain and simple. Whether or not you have the best intentions at heart, your methods have proved otherwise. I feel no more comfortable to leave Harry in your care then I would any child, if not for nothing else then that other child holds no meaning to you outside of the fact that it is simply just a child. The fact that you claim to hold the child's best interest is even more frightening considering the circumstances that he found himself at our doorstep, and makes me wonder what you would do to the children that don't mean nearly as much. No Albus, we will not compromise, but I will promise you that when the time comes for his letter to arrive from Hogwarts, we will give him the choice to choose whether he will attend or not. If so, we will not stop him, and if not, then we will expect you to abide by the decision, and not attempt to force the boy to change his mind."

As bleak as an option as it was, Dumbledore's were limited.

"…very well then."

It was not the ideal situation Dumbledore had hoped for when he had left his office only a short hour ago, nor did it yield the most preferable results. The choice was left entirely up to Harry on whether or not he wished to attend Hogwarts, and he feared that under the guidance of the church, he would choice otherwise.

Still, there was very little to be gained from continuing this debate, and Dumbledore felt three times his age from recent events, and decided to retreat.

For the moment. He wasn't about to lose the only son of Lily and James Potter, especially in a time where the world needed a symbol to hold onto, that could inspire hope in the darkest of times that had yet to pass in the wake of Voldemort's fall, even with the darkness' hold substantially weakened.

"Before I leave, may I have your name? Forgive my manners for not asking earlier, but circumstances led to my usual curtsey taking absence."

The priest settled him an even stare, before deciding that at the very least, he could know his name. "Father Grieve, at your service."

"Well met Father. Please, just promise an old man well past his time to keep the boy safe."

"I promise that I, and my fellow practitioners of St. Dumas, will keep the boy safe from harm."

Dumbledore nodded, ignoring the slight tingling that the name Dumas gave in the back of his mind before disappearing with a blow of his cloak.

Father Grieve, for his part, stayed standing outside the church of St. Dumas for a good minute before turning around and heading for his personal chambers. He had a letter to write, and a meeting to adjourn.

After all, the Chosen One had to be kept safe to fulfill his destiny.

/-/Author Note\-\\

End of the second chapter, and I apologize for the long wait. I haven't had much time to use the computer lately, and have been rather busy with work and other obligations that I have. Took me awhile to write down this chapter, but I wanted to express my own views of Dumbledore and his role in the events of Harry's placement at #4, in addition to the death of the Potters, as well as Sirius imprisonment. It would have been too easy and cliché to fall into the now stereotypical 'Dumbledore is just as evil as Voldemort' plot device, and I decided to do something a tad different as a result, which lead to a Dumbledore with his hands tied behind his back kind of deal, though I would like to hear your opinions on the matter.

On a separate, if not similar note, I have recently watched the Dark Knight Rises, and found it to be a rather good movie, which is saying something since I'm not that much of a Batman fan to begin with. I highly recommend people to go see it if they've already haven't.

Anyway, leave me a review and tell me what you think. Criticism is, as always, welcomed.

Until my next update ladies and gentlemen,

TheCursedAndTorn