Chapter 2:
Raise Your Glass
October 30, 1994 CE
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley walked through the Great Hall with the Gryffindor table on their left and the wall on the right. Harry was next to the table, and Ron was between Harry and the wall. They were speaking of the upcoming Tri-Wizard Tournament, and the top ten reasons why Harry thought the whole thing was stupid.
Suddenly, to the surprise of all seated, Harry was thrown back several feet and landed on his back with the breath knocked out of him. Students closest to him jumped when he yelled, "Ah, fuck! What the hell was that? Weasley!"
"Harry?" Ron asked, turning to face his best mate. Then he too sailed back several feet. "What the fuck- Ow, god damn it!"
"Mr. Potter," Headmaster Dumbledore said as he and Professor McGonagall swept toward them, "Mr. Weasley."
"Holy fucking shit!" Ron bellowed as he scrambled away from him and toward Harry. He fumbled for his wand and pointed it at the Headmaster's chest as soon as he had a firm grip. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Weasley," snapped McGonagall.
"Holy shit," Harry whispered, looking around with wide eyes. "Holy shit. I've entered hell. Weasley, what the fuck did you do?"
"Me? Bullshit. This is something that-" Ron cut himself off with a strangled scream while he stared at his brothers, twins Fred and George. Ron screamed again and climbed on top of Harry as the green-eyed boy tried to stand.
Dumbledore took hold of both of them and led them to his office with McGonagall following. Ron was babbling nonsense, but Harry stared fixedly at Dumbledore, his face stony and blank. When they entered the office, Dumbledore gestured both boys to sit, but neither did. Ron looked green.
"What is wrong with you two?" Dumbledore asked as he himself sat behind his desk. McGonagall stood at his side, her arms crossed and her lips thinned. "Well?" Dumbledore asked in his usual gentle manner.
"You're dead!" Ron finally said. Dumbledore's brow crinkled, but McGonagall seemed to read that one differently.
"How dare you, Weasley! Threatening the Headmaster?" She visibly shook with rage.
"Harry watched you die! Forty years ago! What the fuck is going on?" Ron demanded. He held his wand in his clenched fist. He looked to Harry and stared, transfixed. "Jesus, Harry, why do you look twelve again?"
"How old are you Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked.
"Fifty- eight! I was born March first, nineteen-eighty. It is now two-thousand-thirty-eight! You've been dead since the end of our sixth year, when Snape killed you!" howled Ron.
"What is the last thing you remember before being in the Great Hall?" Dumbledore asked without any judgement in his tone or demeanor.
"I was attending an execution of a Dark Wizard, by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Executions; Harry Potter!" Ron growled. He turned to look at Harry, who finally tore his eyes away from Dumbledore to return the look. "Remember?"
"Inmate: two-two-seven-four-one-B. Name: McClaggen, Cormac R. Crime: rape and murder of Lovegood, Luna A. Incarcerated: July twelfth, twenty-thirty. Execution: September second, twenty-thirty-eight, oh-seven-thirty. Method of execution: Killing Curse," Harry said without hesitation. Ron nodded and turned back to the professors.
"See? Harry and I were on our way for a celebratory pint, after he executed the prick."
"Executions are not legal, Weasley. And Cormac is in the Great Hall as we speak."
"As Minister of Magic," Ron said, "I legalized executions fifteen years ago; My wife divorced me over it and took the kids! But that's beside the point! Both of you are dead! Minerva McGonagall died three years ago! George lost an ear in ninety-seven, and Fred died ten months later! What is going on?"
Dumbledore stood and moved around his desk toward Harry, who looked petrified. He took Harry's face in his hands, looking into his eyes. Harry's hands rested against Dumbledore's chest. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to push the other wizard away, but could not bring himself to do so.
"Drop your shields, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. Harry shook his head, his eyes wide. "I promise you, Harry, I will not hurt you. You have my word as a man, and my oath as a wizard. Please, Harry, drop your shields."
Harry did so. He felt a gentle touch invade his thoughts and memories. Following Dumbledore's search carefully, Harry saw Sirius fall through the veil, Dumbledore fall from the Astronomy tower, George lose an ear, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Hedwig, Moody, Ted Tonks, Gellert Grindelwald, Dobby, Vincent Crabbe, Severus Snape, Colin Creevey, and Voldemort die only weeks before Harry turned eighteen. Harry becoming Head Auror ten years later; his three children born; Ron elected Minister; becoming Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; voting to legalize executions; executing criminals.
Dumbledore gently withdrew from his mind. His blue eyes looked terribly sad. "Thank you for allowing me to view your memories, Harry. I wish to extend the same favor to you."
"Albus?" McGonagall questioned, obviously worried.
Dumbledore ignored her. "Please, Harry. I would like you to know that I am not an imposter; that I am, in fact, Albus Dumbledore. You may view any memories you wish."
Harry did so. He entered Dumbledore's mind and watched him as a teacher. He seriously wanted to see Dumbledore as a teenager with Grindelwald, but he knew that would be taking advantage of the situation. He watched Dumbledore interact with students when he was in his forties. He looked for other such innocuous memories. Boring Wizengamot meetings, joking with colleagues, walking around the castle.
When he was satisfied the man before him was in fact Albus Dumbledore, he withdrew from his mind. Dumbledore smiled at him. "I thank you for your choice of memories, Harry. I could tell that there were memories you wished to see, but refrained. Why is that?"
"To have looked at them would have been a heinous invasion of privacy, and would have served no purpose beyond satisfying my own curiosity. I have not seen you for forty years; I do not wish to compromise the trust you have given me the very first time I see you."
"That's really Dumbledore?" Ron asked, pointing to the old man. Harry nodded. "Holy fuck. We've gone back in time."
"It appears so, Ronald," Dumbledore said, turning to face McGonagall. "Minerva, are you alright?" he asked.
"What do you mean, they've gone back in time?"
"They've returned to their fourteen-year-old selves. They are, in fact, fifty-eight years old mentally. They have all of their memories, everything they have learned, and all. Harry, a week ago, did not know what Occlumency was. Now he is at a Master's level. I believe that they are both animagi, as well. They retain all of their talents and weaknesses from their previous lives. And vices," Dumbledore said, glancing at Harry over his glasses.
"You mean to say that they have truly seen our deaths?" McGonagall asked.
"They have," confirmed Dumbledore with a nod. McGonagall looked between Harry and Ron, distressed.
"Whoa, mate, you just got a one time chance at a new liver. Maybe you can drink this one to oblivion in record time," Ron said, clapping Harry on the back with a smirk. "No more chasing your whiskey or tequila with liver detox-ers. Fresh start!"
"You mean I have to invent the Potter Potion all over again?" Harry asked, deadpan.
"What is that?" Dumbledore asked.
Ron replied, "Shot of rum, Felix Felicis, and Pepper-Up potion. Six or seven of those, you'll have the best party of your life."
"You're a heavy drinker, then?" Dumbledore asked, leaning against his desk.
Ron laughed darkly. "Are you kidding? It ended his marriage twenty years ago. He hasn't spoken to his kids in, what? Seven years?"
"Right in one," Harry said, his eyes dark. "It doesn't help that I am -was- the Head Executioner. Apparently, James and Albus found this repulsive. Molly thought it horrid, cruel, and unfair."
"You named a child Albus?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes sparkling.
"My three children are named James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Molly Lily. They are thirty-three, thirty-one, and twenty-nine."
"Do you have children, Ronald?" Dumbledore asked, looking at him.
"Rose and Hugo, thirty-one and twenty-nine," Ron replied. "And my kids still speak to me," he said, smirking at Harry.
"Hey, man, two of my grandkids speak to me!" Harry snapped. He deflated a bit. "Well, they owl. Mathew is twelve, and Wulfric is eleven."
"You have quite a large family," Dumbledore said.
"I always wanted a family," Harry said with a shrug. "So, what are we going to do? Is there any way to send us back?"
Dumbledore looked between them for a moment. "No," he said simply. Ron grimaced.
"I hated being fourteen. I was a complete twerp. And scrawny- Hey, wait! Ha! Harry, I'm finally stronger than you again! And I forgot you were that short! Shit, man, yer like five feet tall!"
"I am not! I'm five… six, or something. Sweet Jesus, I've shrunk ten inches." Harry dropped his head. "Ah, this sucks."
"Well, there is nothing for it," Dumbledore said jovially, "you'll have to attend Hogwarts once more!"
Harry and Ron looked to each other, and Harry said, "You hold him, I'll punch him."
"I got your six," Ron replied with a firm nod.
"Now, boys, it won't be that bad. Think of it this way; now you know what to avoid," McGonagall said soothingly.
"Yeah," Ron muttered, "the whiskey at Potter's bachelor party."
"Hey!" Harry said.
"Well, most people don't spike their whiskey with mind-altering drugs!" Ron said.
With a straight face, Harry replied, "That was an accident."
"Mr. Potter, there will be no consumption of alcohol on Hogwarts grounds!" McGonagall said sternly, pointing a threatening finger at him.
"Whoa, down girl. Remember, dear, you're only ten years older than me. Now, I don't personally go for older women, but you are within my age range…" Harry cut himself off when he saw the look McGonagall was giving him.
"This coming from man that dates women younger than his own children?"
"Shut up, Ronald. Remember, I was at your bachelor party, as well." The two men stared at each other for a moment.
"Yer an ass," Ron said.
"And you cheat on simple muggle tests," Harry replied.
"That was-"
Dumbledore cut off the argument before it could begin. "I think it would be wise if the two of you returned to the last few minutes of breakfast, and then proceed to classes as usual. Speak of this to no one, not even Ginevra or Hermione, if you would."
Together, Harry and Ron said, "As if I'd willingly speak to that no good dirty rotten money whore of a tramp."
"Strong feelings on the issue, then?" Dumbledore asked lightly. "You will, of course, continue your relationships as they are, to avoid suspicion."
"Don't think about it," Harry nearly snarled, starling the other people in the room. "I see that look in your eye. Whatever you are thinking, or planning, or contemplating… even any thoughts you might be entertaining- forget it. I have seen that look on your face more than once, and it has led me to bad places."
Feigning hurt, Dumbledore placed a hand over his heart and said, "Planning? Dear boy, I am thinking no such thing. It will simply be easier in the long run if you… You do not believe me? Fine. Just remember that I only ever have your best interest in mind."
Unwilling to say what he wanted, Harry turned on his heel and made for the door, muttering, "Best interests… tell you where to shove those… lord love a goat… genetically predisposed to crazy…"
Classes that day were a very, very strange experience for the two men returned to their teenaged selves. Harry kept walking by people he had known in later life, and often almost made references to inside jokes they knew nothing about. One time, he almost cursed a few of them on reflex. That night the foreign students were arriving for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and Harry was determined to keep himself out of it. Sometimes, however, life didn't work his way.
Harry and Ron stood next to Hermione as all of Hogwarts watched the arrival of the foreign school. Beauxbatons Academy arrived in a flying carriage. Harry and Ron made snide remarks, causing Hermione to huff. When the Durmstrang students arrived, the boys chanted a deep march. "Dum dum dumdum, dum dum dumdum dumdumdum."
"Boys," McGonagall snapped.
At the celebratory feast, Harry and Ron were impolitely working their way through several helpings of food; enough to feed the Roman army. They were interrupted when a beautiful Beauxbaton's girl leaned between them to ask for something. Ron, his mouth completely full, managed to say, "Nope, that's taken. Get your own, shove off!"
"You are rude!" the girl said with a thick French accent.
"Oi, Fleur," Ron snapped, "get buggered, I'm eating here!"
Harry tried to repress a hearty laugh. It was something that Fleur Weasley, Ron's sister-in-law, would have laughed at while rolling her eyes. It had taken her years to get used to his rough behavior. Seventeen-year-old Fleur, however, was deeply offended.
"Who are you to speak to me like ziz?" the part-Veela demanded. The scene was attracting attention.
It appeared to Harry that Ron dearly wanted to say, "The Minister of Magic, that's who!" but he could not. Ron slammed his hands on the table and stood up, whirling to face the French woman. "I am Ronald Bilius Weasley, best friend of Harry James Potter! You know what that means? Be nice to me, or he'll go Revenge of the Sith on your ass!"
"I have never been spoken to like ziz!" Fleur snarled.
"Yeah, well buck up, you Prom Queen! Welcome to life!" Ron sat down and continued eating.
"Revenge of the Sith? Really? Not even The Last Samurai, or Braveheart?" Ron looked affronted by Harry's question.
"No, man," Ron said. "If I had to pick a fictional character for you, it'd be Darth Vader."
Harry stood and began walking from the hall. "Sure," he said sarcastically.
"No, really!" Ron called as he followed Harry. "Chosen One prophesized to end the Dark Side, murders a tribe to avenge his mother, The Hero-With-No-Fear, falls to the Dark Side, becomes Dark Lord of the Sith- Darth Vader. Come on, Harry! It's like it was written about you!" Ron said, gesticulating.
Without turning, Harry mildly asked, "Are you saying I'm going to fall to the Dark Side?"
"Mate, the Dark Side is sunshine and daisies compared to you."
"I'm seriously offended, man, and I have one thing to say," Harry stated. Just as he walked out of the hall, he bellowed, "Freedom!"
As it was, Harry and Ron were not popular people with the foreign students. However, "Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody" liked them well enough. Harry seriously wanted to pop the imposter in the nose, but refrained somehow. Ron came much closer on several occasions.
Halloween night, the feast was particularly tense. Ron continued to poke Harry in the ribs, until Harry finally yelled, "Fuck, man, do that again and I'm going to fuck you up so bad yer kids will be fucked up!"
Ignoring McGonagall's stern lecture, Ron yelled back, "Don't you think my kids will be fucked up enough, just for being related to me?"
"One more word, you two," threatened the Deputy Headmistress.
Harry held an index finger up to her and said, "Uno momento, por favor, Senorita McGonagall." He then turned to Ron and said, "Demasiado cerveza, mi amigo."
Ron replied, "Tú, yo, la cerveza. Después de la fiesta. La fuerza también arruinar por completo a mis futuros hijos."
"Si, my amigo."
Hermione, eyes wide, said, "Since when in the name of god do you two speak Spanish?"
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.
"You… you were just speaking Spanish."
Harry and Ron shook their heads. "No, no we weren't. You know, Hermione, hearing things is worrisome," Harry said serenely. "You should get that checked out."
"He is right, Hermione," Dean Thomas said with a straight face. "I understood what they were saying."
Before Hermione could reply, Dumbledore stood up, signaling the end of the Feast. It was then time to announce the Champions from the three schools. Ron poked him once more.
"That's it, Weasley!" Harry shouted. "Next time I see you alone in a dark ally, I'll keelhaul your ass."
"Mr. Potter, if I could have the floor, please? And, Mr. Weasley, please cease poking Mr. Potter." Dumbledore turned to the crowd and explained about the tournament.
Harry leaned to Ron and asked, "Should I prepare an acceptance speech, or just wing it?"
Ron simply smirked at him and turned back to the Headmaster.
"And now, the Champions!" Harry stopped paying attention, until a hush fell over the crowd. He knew that his moment was approaching.
"Harry Potter," Dumbledore whispered. The man slowly turned to Harry with an inquiring look. "Mr. Potter? They're waiting for you."
Harry rose slowly with a small grin on his face. "I go nowhere without my wingman. You never know when you are going to run into a ridiculously gorgeous woman. Ronald?"
"Got your six, mate," Ron said with a straight face. They walked between the table and the wall down toward Dumbledore, who looked mildly perplexed. Harry plucked the piece of paper with his name on it out of the man's hand and wadded it up into a tight little ball. He set it on the Staff Table and took aim. With a mighty flick, he launched the paper up in the air toward the Slytherin table. With a sharp curve, it landed in the goblet of a Ravenclaw Seventh Year; a young man that had put his name in the Goblet of Fire and lost. He looked pretty steamed, in fact.
Harry raised his arms up in victory. "I knew History of Magic would come in handy some day." That said, Harry turned and walked into the antechamber where the Champions were waiting. "Evenin'!" he declared as he walked in, the sound of the Great Hall diminished as the door closed behind Ron.
"What are you two doing here?" Cedric asked.
"Well I have been chosen as a Hogwarts Champion, and Ron is here to make sure I don't kill any of you to eliminate the competition!" Harry said jovially. His smile did not fade when he noticed the angry looks he was getting.
Dumbledore, McGonagall, the other school heads, and the Ministry officials in charge of the event strode in a moment later. "Harry Potter, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore demanded. He was standing just inches from Harry, so close that their noses were almost touching. There was a spark of curiosity in the man's eyes.
"Me?" Harry asked, delicately placing a hand over his heart. "I would never, sir. To be accused of such a thing is absolutely astounding. I shall now dedicate the next three and a half minutes to brooding." Harry forced his features into a dark mask, reminiscent of Severus Snape.
"Wonderful, Harry," Dumbledore said, rolling his eyes. "Do you have any idea how your name was entered?"
Harry smirked. "Haven't the foggiest. My money's on Malfoy."
Ron made an unsure sound. "I say Snape."
"To each his own, I suppose," Dumbledore said calmly. The old man was watching both boys closely, suspicious.
"Isn't there a reason we're here?" Harry asked in a stage whisper.
"Of course," Dumbledore said.
After the first task was explained to the Champions, Harry and Ron reemerged from the room into the Great Hall. People were looking at Harry angrily. Harry, quite used to angry stares, smiled charmingly at them and strutted from the Hall.
Dean, Seamus, and Neville stared at Harry as he changed for bed. They had been staring at him since they entered the room. "I don't want to sound at all prejudiced or rude or unsupportive, but I got a real problem with dudes staring at me while I'm half naked. Now, if that is just how you are, I'm cool with that. But eyes off."
The three other boys blushed and quickly moved about getting ready for bed. "How did you do it, Harry? How did you get you name in?"
"I didn't. I think someone is trying to humiliate me. My money is on Malfoy."
"I say Snape," Ron said from his position of laying down staring at the wall. He had been snoring throughout the whole conversation, but regained consciousness long enough to point a finger at his least favorite teacher. The snoring resumed shortly.
"Whatever. The point is, someone is out to get me."
"Don't worry, mate," Seamus said from behind his bed curtains, "we got your back."
"Thanks, Seamus."
As Harry entered the common room the next morning, there was a group of people waiting for him. He had missed the common room, with its feeling of safety and home. He had also missed the people. They were still so young, so untouched by evil. Colin Creevey was sitting there, smiling away with his camera. When Harry knew him, he never made it to 17.
"Why, hello there," Harry said. "What is going on here?"
"Dean and Seamus say you didn't put your name in the Goblet. Is that true?" Lavender Brown asked.
"Of course it is. Why would I put my name in? I don't want to compete. I have enough chances to get myself kill every year, without this ridiculous tournament."
"Then who put your name in?" Parvati Patil demanded.
"Someone who wants me hurt, or humiliated," he replied calmly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm hungry."
The walk through the castle was trying. The stares and the whispers were bad enough, but some of the people were people he had known later in life, that he had put in prison or saved from Dark wizards.
No gratitude.
Harry and Ron made it to the Great Hall in one piece. When they got there, however, Hermione Granger was waiting. She wanted answers.
"What is the matter with you two?" she asked. "Last week you were perfectly normal, now you're acting all strange. And speaking Spanish? What is this?" she demanded.
"Spanish?" Harry asked. "I still don't know what you're talking about." He shoved some sausage and egg in his mouth and continued to look at her with concern.
"Harry, you've never been good with attention before, and now all the sudden you're Mr. Spotlight!" she snapped. "And you, Ron, have not made one comment about Harry's name coming out of the Goblet. I would have expected you to be angry!"
"Angry?" Ron asked. He also looked at her in concern. "Are you alright, Hermione? You're acting awful funny."
"Me?" she snarled. "You two are being downright crazy!"
Harry and Ron looked at each other, and then back to Hermione. They slowly lowered their silverware to their plates and pushed back from the table slightly. "Listen, Hermione, if you need to see someone about this, we won't think any less of you. There's no shame in seeing a psychologist," Harry said soothingly.
"A psychologist?" Hermione screeched. A few heads turned in their direction in confusion. "I should see a psychologist? I'm perfectly fine! You two are nutters!"
"Listen, Hermione, I've read about this," Ron said, in all seriousness. "Have you had any big gaps in memory lately? Woken up and not knowing where you are?"
"What are you implying, Ronald Weasley? Because I'm fed up with your nonsense."
"I think you're being possessed!" Ron yelled, drawing most people's attention. "By the Devil."
Hermione's face became eerily calm. "You think I am being possessed by the Devil," she repeated. "And what makes you think this?"
"You're hearing things in strange languages. You look like you haven't slept in weeks. You've got a twitch in your right eye. And you study magic, which we all know is of the Devil."
Hermione's face then burned with rage. "We're at a SCHOOL of MAGIC, idiot!" Hermione then let out a frustrated, strangled growl. It was a loud, frightening sound, like that of an angry boar being eaten by an angrier bear that's been sodomized by a dying duck.
"SATAN!" Harry and Ron screamed as they dove over the Hufflepuff table, and under the Ravenclaw table.
"I want my mommy!" Ron yelled.
"I want your sister!"
There was several seconds of silence from under the table.
Then Ron said, "Not cool, man… Oooh! Black panties! Girls only wear black panties when they want-"
"Ow!" Harry yelled. Several feet were suddenly kicking him, and he and Ron found that their hiding place was no longer safe. "Ow, what the… He said it! Kick him!"
The two scrambled from under the table and found that several people were glaring at them. They shook hands. "People hate us, and breakfast isn't even over," Ron said proudly.
"Mission accomplished."
They casually walked from the hall, discussing Quidditch in calm voices.
They failed to remember that they had Transfiguration first thing that morning. McGonagall glared at them as they entered, took one of each of their ears, and marched them to her office. She sat them down and glared down at them as she towered above the two fourteen-year-old boys.
"I don't know what to say," she admitted in an angry voice. Her eyes were blazing with anger. "You two are… unbelievably…. You…. Just wait here. I will talk to you after class. I have half a mind to make you stand in separate corners! One peep out of you, and I'll convince the Headmaster that the entirety of the dungeons needs to be cleaned spotless. With toothbrushes. By the two of you. Stay."
The angry woman walked from the office and slammed the door behind her. Harry and Ron looked at each other, grinning mischievously. They talked for several minutes. The class was a normal one, only an hour long. "That's something James would have. . ."
Ron broke off. The two men stared at each other for several seconds, before Harry whispered, "We really are never going to see them again, are we?"
"No, no Harry, I don't think we are."
Unbidden tears slipped down their faces, blurring their sight. "We'll never see our grandkids again."
"I promised to teach Wulfric how to Feint."
Harry's words were the last straw. The two men, once famous for their bravery and daring and cool heads, sat together and cried.
Minerva had summoned Albus to her office, and she nearly ran into him as she stormed to the transfiguration office. The room had once been Albus' domain, where she and Albus had spent many afternoons sipping tea and discussing Transfiguration, she a top student, he a brilliant scholar.
"Ah, Minerva," Albus said with a smile. "What is the urgent business?"
"Potter and Weasley. Their stunt in the Great Hall," she answered. She opened the door with a bit of anger, and was about to snap something at the boys when she stopped dead. Albus almost ran into her. "Potter? Weasley?"
Albus looked into the office and saw the two young men hurriedly rubbing at their eyes and wiping their noses. The two professors moved into the room and stood beside the red-eyed teens. "What is the matter?" Albus asked. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, which were shaking softly. Minerva did the same to Ron, and they looked at the boys, concerned.
"It's nothing, Professor," Harry said. Neither of the teens would look at the professors.
"Harry, Ron," Albus said seriously, kneeling beside Harry, "Professor McGonagall and I are here to help you, with anything. Now, please, tell me what the problem is."
Ron, still wiping his face, angered by his still dripping eyes, said, "Harry and I just realized that we'll never see our families again. We'll never see our kids or grandkids, or nieces or nephews or great-nieces or great-nephews. We'll never see which house they're sorted into."
"I'll never teach Wulfric the Wronski Feint."
"Hugo and I will never get drunk and wrestle in the front yard until the cops are called again."
"I'll never throw paper airplanes at James at Department meetings."
Minerva looked at Albus, and both of them agreed at that moment that the two boys had never grown up.
They had talked themselves into tears again. Albus pulled Harry toward him and held the small head to his chest as he hugged him. Minerva did the same to Ron, who quite uncharacteristically did not seem bothered by the proximity of the professor.
It was another ten minutes before both boys had calmed. Harry wiped his eyes again. "Sorry, Professor," Harry said hoarsely.
"I have to get to my next class, Albus," Minerva said. Albus waved her away. He summoned a house elf and asked for tea. He set it on the desk and offered each boy a cup. They both took one and sipped.
"Do you feel better?" Albus asked quietly.
Ron nodded, and looked at his best friend in concern. He had a better relationship with his kids than Harry did with his. It was obvious that Harry regretted not spending more time with his family. "Harry?" he asked his friend.
Harry nodded.
"Harry, have you ever cried before?" Albus asked.
"Not really," Harry replied dully. "Never had time."
"You're nearing sixty years old, and you've never cried before?" Albus asked, in complete disbelief.
"Well, never sobbed before. There's been, you know, tears. At your funeral, at Tonks and Remus' funeral. I think I cried when James was born," Harry said. He rubbed his eyes more.
"And do you feel better now?" Albus asked again.
"A bit. But now my nose is runny and my eyes sting."
Albus laughed softly. "Now, boys, what was that stunt this morning?"
Ron chuckled. "We get a little exuberant. Besides, I still have a little residual anger toward Hermione. Seeing her always makes me a little, um. . . See, she didn't go for a no-fault divorce. She sued me for. . ."
"Infidelity," Harry supplied with an ironic smirk into his teacup.
Albus nearly choked on his tea. "Pardon?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "She alleged I was cheating on her with my job. She made all sorts of wild accusations. She said I neglected my family and spent nights away. I was the Minister of Magic, so none of the allegations stuck. It was humiliating, though. Every day, her face was front page of the Daily Prophet, declaring some other lie about me."
"I understand that there might be some hard feelings between you and other students, based on things that have not happened yet. But you must let that go. All of it," Albus said, looking between the two boys. "Tormenting people who have not yet done anything wrong is not okay. Do you understand this?" he asked.
"Yes sir," both boys said solemnly.
"Good! I know this will not be easy for you. I also know that you are both much older than fourteen, and house points and detentions mean very little to you. How do you think I should punish you?" Albus asked.
He quite enjoyed asking misbehaving students how they should be punished. He often got rather funny answers in return, especially from the likes of the Weasley Twins and the Marauders.
"Well?" Albus prompted. He was trying very hard to maintain a stern look.
"I dunno," Ron answered. He was avoiding the Headmaster's eyes.
"Harry?" Albus asked.
"Um, that's your job, sir," Harry said.
Albus looked at the two boys over his glasses. "Meet me in my office directly after dinner. I will have decided on a punishment by then."
"Yes sir," both boys said.
"Now, get cleaned up. I'll right a note for Professor Flitwick." Albus took parchment and quill from one of his deep pockets and wrote a quick note. "He expects you in fifteen minutes. He just does not know it yet. Now, off to class," Albus said sternly.
Harry and Ron stood and trudged to the door. Harry turned back at the threshold and glanced over his shoulder.
"Sir?" he said quietly.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Thanks for not, you know," the boy said, "making fun of me."
"You're welcome, Harry," Albus replied sincerely.
Harry left, leaving Albus alone in the office. Now all Albus had to do was come up with a punishment for two fifty-eight-year-old men that were overly high-spirited. Albus decided that a trip to Aberforth's pub for some advice was in order.
Ab was an unbiased opinion that Albus often relied on to decide on punishments. Especially when Albus felt he might be too soft on some delinquent he was fond of.
Albus entered the pub and greeted his brother warmly. He got a grunt in reply. "Ab, I need your advice."
"You got some troublemakers, Al?" Aberforth said.
"I certainly do. Will you help me out?"
"Sure. What's the problem?"
Albus sighed and explained the morning's events, leaving out who, exactly, the troublemakers were.
"I see," Aberforth said as he cleaned a glass. He set a glass of lemonade in front of Albus, who thanked him. "You like these boys, don't you?"
It was not really a question, but Albus answered. "I do. They are good boys, from good families." Aberforth knew that 'good family' probably meant they were members of the Order. "They've never been much trouble before, but recently they've gone through some pretty traumatizing events, and gotten a bit rebellious."
"Hmm." Aberforth went into his backroom for a moment, and then moved back toward Albus. "Send them over to me, Al. I need some help cleaning up around her. Getting organized, you know. There's a thick layer of dust hiding my backroom. I don't want to do that myself."
Albus thought a moment. "They'll be here Saturday. What time?"
Aberforth scratched his beard and stared at the top of the bar. "I get up at five to feed the goats," he said. "Bout then is fine."
Albus nodded. "They'll be here. Thanks, Ab."
"Yeah, whatever."