Disclaimer: Anything that is in any way affiliated with Harry Potter (I'm talking characters, setting etc.) belongs to JKR. I just like to play with her ideas.
A/N: Although you may not realize it, this is a double update! That's right, Chapter Two has been replaced, and so before you all read this, I urge you to go and read that too, because I would love to hear your thoughts. You won't be able to review it, if you already reviewed the previous chapter two, so you know, if you have any thoughts I suppose you could either anonymous review me, or include them in a review for this chapter. Enjoy!
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Too many people living in a secret world
While they play mothers and fathers
We play little boys and girls
When we gonna make it work?
I could be happy
I could be quite naive
It's only me and my shadows
Happy in our make believe
- Advice For The Young At Heart, Tears for Fears
Soul Searching
4th December 1997
The breeze was pleasantly brisk as Albus Dumbledore made his way up the old hillside, knobby knees springing gently along the stone-hewn path. He could see his quarry now, a quaint stone cottage near the crest. Smoke curled from its chimney, and Dumbledore paused to regard it thoughtfully. This was the correct address certainly, yet now that he was here, it did not seem the sort of place that he had expected.
After all, such a wizard would surely command the respect of all who resided hereabouts, and for him to reside in such a homely place was deeply humbling.
Dumbledore conveniently neglected to consider that the lifestyle he saw before him was surprisingly similar to the home he had chosen for himself.
Dumbledore opened the little garden gate, stepped carefully up the path and rapped his knuckles on the front door smartly. Somewhere inside, a small explosion sounded, and the door opened of it's own accord.
A young man, who Dumbledore estimated to be roughly the same age as the Potters, peered at him inquisitively from an interior doorway. "Hello?"
"Good day," Dumbledore responded pleasantly, not in the least disconcerted by the youth's quizzical gaze, which traveled up and down his body, taking in his hair, beard and wrinkles with interest. "I am Albus Dumbledore. I believe I can find Merlin here?"
The man blinked and nodded, beckoning him inside. "Yes, of course, please take a seat. Won't be a moment, I'm sure you heard the- yes…."
He disappeared once more through a doorway that appeared to lead into the kitchen.
Dumbledore gazed around the house, displaying an insuppressible curiosity at the life the wizard he had regarded for so many years as something akin to his hero lived. Now he was inside, yes, this seemed to be the right place. Tattered books lined the walls, and a set of comfortable armchairs were set beside the window, where the best light for reading would be. Surmising that he was invited to take a seat, he swiftly selected the less-used chair, folding his hands politely on his lap.
The young man reappeared, and Dumbledore took the opportunity to examine him. His face was angular, eyes an intelligent shade of grey, concealed behind a curtain of dark brown hair, which fell to his shoulders. He was tall and thin, and moved with great purpose.
The young man set himself down into the vacant armchair, smiling. "Forgive me, Albus Dumbledore. I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you at last."
Dumbledore blinked, a momentary betrayal of his surprise. For all his great knowledge, he had not expected – surely…
Merlin smiled wryly. "Ah, yes, Albus, I do apologise. I am Merlin, as I expect you've observed for yourself."
Dumbledore raised his hands in protest, voice regretful. "No, no apology necessary, please. It is I who should apologise, when I, who should know better, have entered your home with preconceived notions."
Merlin leant back comfortably, not appearing to mind in the least. "Naturally, your notions are often correct, though. You are a man of great wisdom, that much is obvious."
Dumbledore watched him, impressed. It was one thing, he decided, to meet the man you had dreamt of meeting for a lifetime. It was another altogether to have an accidental insult brushed aside so easily.
"And yet, you seem uncertain. Is that why you have come, to partake in my own famed wisdom?" The idea seemed to amuse Merlin greatly.
Dumbledore bowed his head. "I am afraid so," he said apologetically. "You see, we seem to have a problem."
Dumbledore met Merlin's eyes for the first time, and found they were glowing with a deep intelligence. The younger (and yet older) man smiled cheerfully.
"My friend, I am sure there is not a problem we cannot solve if we, the two great minds of our time, put our heads together."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Certainly I would not dare to call myself a great mind, or of anything equal to you," he protested modestly. "I come for advice, certainly."
Merlin nodded. "Naturally, you would underestimate yourself. I find it happens frequently. And yet, you will come to accept the extraordinariness you carry, I think. Do not be fooled: it is an idea that constantly humbles me."
"Is it possible, do you think, that Lord Voldemort could make his presence here?"
The question escaped Dumbledore's lips prematurely, yet he met Merlin's eyes levelly as his companion tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"I had the same concern with Morgana, a while back," he murmured casually, as though they were discussing a sudden influx of gnomes into his garden, "but she didn't seem to make it across, no."
Dumbledore persevered. "I suspect that one requires a soul, whole and unblemished, to pass into this place."
Merlin smiled broadly, his delight almost childlike. "Now, I've never thought about it on those terms, although I am sure you are correct. How excellent! And yet, it must be so. After all, without a soul, one simply ceases to exist."
Dumbledore did not have time to wonder at this easy confirmation, even less at Merlin's apparent philosophical revelation, for once more, the young man leant forward, eyes no longer thoughtful, but excited.
"Of course, anything is possible. This place," he gestured his hands to include broadly their surroundings. "This place was built on an impossibility. When the first of us-" Dumbledore assumed this to mean the magical community "- happened upon this place, I believe they might simply have pulled out their wands and waved them around a bit. It simply amazes me how many ideas are realised from impossibilities. Eternity built on the foundations of magic. Brilliant!"
Dumbledore gazed out the window thoughtfully. An existence – and certainly, one could only call this existence, for it was nothing more and nothing less than an afterlife – based solely on the magical abilities of a collection of witches and wizards from ages departed floored him to a point of serene acceptance. These men and women would have been naturally of great power, and somehow, Dumbledore imagined that Ignotus Peverell would most certainly have played his part. Ignotus had always seemed liberal-minded about death.
"I imagine the magic is maintained simply by our presence?"
Merlin nodded, pleased. "I suspect so. For as long as magic folk continue to reside here, here, wherever it is, shall continue to be here."
"And one who is not whole and pure cannot reach this place."
"They would corrupt the magic," Merlin concluded simply. "They are unwelcome."
A great sense of relief spread throughout Dumbledore's body, and he relaxed against the cushioned chair. Merlin seemed to read this in his eyes, for his own flickered with enjoyment. "I am sure you are eager to share this news with your contemporaries," he murmured, seeming for the first time reluctant.
Dumbledore nodded. "I must, yes."
He stood suddenly, a new purpose invigorating him. Merlin stood hastily too.
"I have enjoyed our talk, however brief," he murmured, regretfully. "You must return again, soon."
Dumbledore shook his hand, eyes twinkling as he beamed. "I do thank you, Merlin, for taking the trouble to-"
"No trouble!" Merlin interrupted. "None at all. As I said, I rather enjoyed it. Few wizards provide such stimulating ideas for me to consider."
He turned suddenly and scribbled an address on a scrap of parchment.
"In fact, I wonder if you would take a message to one such man, for I am eager for you both to be acquainted."
He pressed the address into Dumbledore's right hand, before covering it with his own.
"I will see you soon."
Dumbledore nodded confirmation. "Certainly, Merlin, it would be my pleasure."
Merlin appeared distinctly mischievous, as though considering whether to share a personal joke. "No more formality, Albus. You must call me Merle when we meet again, I insist."
If this were a test, Dumbledore seemed to pass. He nodded, once more murmuring agreement, as he turned to leave. Merlin did not relinquish the grip on his hand. Dumbledore hesitated, unsure of what to make of such an obvious offer of the status of a peer.
"And Albus? You must really stop this nonsense of looking old."
Dumbledore met his amusement mildly. "I am quite aware one only appears as old as one feels," he murmured dryly. "I, however, found the experience of growing old quite enjoyable. I remain, in appearance, like this by choice, I assure you."
Dumbledore made his way out of Merlin's home, closing the front gate behind him. Merlin leant in the doorway, watching the retreating back of his guest, and wondered whether Albus had noticed the few traces of auburn hair that had appeared in his beard.
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A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this. It was particularly difficult to resist making Merlin and Dumbledore too similar, but I think I managed it! Thanks for reading.