Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamut, and head of the International Confederation of Wizards, was in a foul mood as he sat at his desk and realized that more and more of his precious control was slipping through his fingers.

Where did everything start to go wrong? he thought as his mind wandered back over the last century, in which he had always striven to maintain as much control over everything as he possibly could. Unable to determine exactly where all of his plans had begun going wrong, he decided to use his Pensieve to look over the memories of important points in his life.

****Pensieve Memory: August 3, 1906****

Albus entered the Pensieve to find himself in a park in Berlin, Germany, approaching his old friend of nearly a half century, Gellert Grindelwald.

"Gellert, old friend, how are you?" Albus asked his long-time friend.

"Albus! How wonderful to see you again. What brings you around to my neck of the woods on a day like today?" Gellert replied, clearly pleased to see him.

"Ah, sharp as ever, my friend. I never could get anything past you. I'm here to discuss the plans regarding Muggles that we made at school," Albus said.

"So it's business today, I see. What exactly would you like to talk about?" Gellert leaned back on the bench comfortably.

"Well, as you know," Albus began, "I feel they can be quite useful to the wizarding population—performing jobs and services that pure-bloods need not lower themselves to do, you know. I would like your help in finding a way to get and keep them under control."

"Finally you see the wisdom of the stronger, better race ruling the weaker." Gellert did not attempt to hide his satisfaction. "I take it since you came to me that you yourself will not be participating but will be continuing on your trek to gather power for the cause?" he asked.

"But of course. I will be the one leading our society toward the eventual domination of the Muggle culture," Albus said.

"I do have a few ideas that could be used to accomplish our goals, though it may take some time. I will contact you when I am ready to begin," Gellert told him.

"Thank you, old friend. You have helped me more than you will ever know." Albus, an evil smile on his face, turned to walk away from his oldest friend. Gellert has always been a good friend, and I will hate to see him go, but it is for the greater good, he thought.

****Transfiguration Teacher's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry****

Albus sat at his desk reading over a letter that his dear friend Gellert had sent him earlier in the day.

Albus:

I have worked toward our goal. As we discussed, I have taken control of the leader of the Muggle country of Germany and have ordered him to declare open war against those who are not of pure ethnic descent. The way I figure it, with the Muggles fighting amongst themselves it will be that much easier for us to create a world where the pure of blood can rule as we are meant to. How go your efforts to build us a stable power base? Not much time now. I need to prepare a few more things before the war starts; I seek to spread my influence to the Italians and hopefully amongst the Soviets as well. Tell Ariana I look forward to the time when we can be together again and even more to the day when we can have children in a world that is properly run.

Your friend,

Gellert

Ah, thought Albus, good old reliable Gellert—trying to turn the Muggles against themselves. Not that the filthy animals ever need an excuse to kill each other; after all, it's what they've been doing for thousands of years. I need to keep a more careful eye on Ariana, though. I can't let her interfere with my plans. I must be the one to have control of things—only I know what is for the best for everybody.

As he exited the Pensieve he felt a pang of sadness at the thought of his sister's fate. He could still remember the day he and Gellert had returned to Albus' house from the Continent. He rose and went to the shelf where he kept his vials of memories; he selected one and, returning to his desk, removed the stopper and let the wisp of memory flow into the Pensieve. He sat down once again and, bracing himself, plunged his face through the surface of the shifting, swirling memories.

****Dumbledore Cottage****

Albus watched as his memory self and Gellert walked down the lane headed for the cottage where he lived with his brother and his sister Ariana. The two men were laughing and having a good time until they took the final turn before the house' it was then that they saw that the front door of the cottage was knocked in and one of the windows was broken.

"Ariana!" Gellert yelled. He ran toward the house, pushing Albus out of his way in his haste.

The foyer and the parlor were empty; aside from the knocked-over furniture there was no evidence that anything was wrong in the house. The same could be said about the kitchen and dining area. In the master bedroom, however, was a sight that would live fresh in the memory of the man who would become known as the worst Dark Lord of the first half of the twentieth century. There, lying on the bed with blood flowing from several wounds in her abdomen, was the naked, battered body of Ariana Dumbledore.

While Gellert wept over his lost love, Albus, who was always the more practical of the two, activated a monitoring ward he had set up in his house to monitor everything that occurred there. Years of being a manipulator had caused him to become extremely paranoid.

Albus observed as his memory self watched in the mirror he used to view the events that had transpired earlier in the day. Three men broke down the front door and knocked over furniture, throwing a priceless vase through one of the windows and laughing as it shattered on the ground outside. They went through the house destroying everything in their path. Suddenly one of them heard the door to the master bedroom shut.

"I heard a door back that way," the leader said. The group headed toward the only closed door in the direction the noise had come from. They opened it cautiously, not sure what might be on the other side. At first it appeared there was nobody in the room; it wasn't until an involuntary whimper from one corner brought their attention to the presence of a naked woman cowering in fear, partially hidden behind an oak chifforobe.

"Please don't hurt me!" the girl cried, tears streaming down her face.

"Just do what you're told and we won't have to hurt you," the leader said.

"Money—jewels—whatever you want—just take it and leave, please," she begged.

"Not to worry about that, we'll be taking the all the gold and jewels, but first we're going to take what we want from you," one of the goons said as he grabbed her by the arm.

Albus was sickened by what he saw but knew he couldn't afford to react too strongly to the situation or his future plans could be placed in serious jeopardy.

He skipped the rest of that portion of the memory because he had no desire to relive any more of it. He felt that nothing else of importance to his plans had occurred on that long-ago day, so he moved ahead to the day when the three young men, who turned out to be Squib brothers born of Mudblood parents, faced justice. Which, due to Albus' manipulations, had entailed banishment of them and their families from the magical world of Great Britain.

****Courtroom 5, Ministry of Magic, London, England****

Albus watched as the three young men who he had seen assault and cause the death of his sister were led into the courtroom with their hands and feet shackled. A few moments later the Wizengamut members who had been chosen to oversee the trial reentered the chamber. They took their seats and conferred for a moment, agreeing on a spokesman for the group. The spokesman, XXX XXX, approached the podium at the front of the room and prepared to make an announcement regarding the fate of the brothers McGregor. The brothers stood impassively as they waited to learn of their fate.

The spokesman cleared his throat ostentatiously, and silence fell over the the chamber. "It is the decision of this court that you are guilty of the rape and subsequent death of one Ariana Dumbledore. While normally the punishment for this would be execution via the Veil of Death, the head of the House of Dumbledore has executed his rights as a pure-blood lord and has decided upon a different punishment. Therefore it is the decision of this court that you shall henceforth be exiled from the magical world, that your memory of the magical world be completely erased, and that you will furthermore be exiled even from Muggle Britain for a period of no less than thirty years. Failure to comply with this court's ruling will result in your immediate execution. You have two days from this time to settle your affairs and to gather any of your family who choose to go with you into exile."

****Grindelwald Manor, Berlin Germany****

The next memory Albus fetched was from a day about a month after the men were sent into exile. The very thought that the men who had done such a vile thing to his sister were to be allowed to exist in relative freedom after what they'd done filled him with an almost insurmountable anger. But he did acknowledge that this sacrifice had to be made; in order for him to achieve his desired position of authority, he had to appear as the magnanimous leader of the light, forgiving those who had so badly wronged him. But they would pay—oh, yes, they would.

Albus found himself standing outside of a very nice two-story manor house awaiting his long-time friend and favorite pawn so he could set things back onto the proper path he had set forth many decades before, a plan that would leave him as the advisor to those who ruled the magical world.

"What do you want, Albus?" Grindelwald asked abruptly as he came out of the house.

"Is that any way to speak to your oldest friend?" Albus asked reproachfully.

"You stopped being my friend, Albus, when you allowed those monsters who killed my precious Ariana to get away with what they did. How you could allow them to even live after what they did I will never understand," Gellert spat.

"You just don't understand the situation. I had to be seen to show them compassion in order to establish my position of prominence, so I would be able to help make the changes we desire with the least bloodshed possible. There was another path, Gellert. You did not have to follow the path of bloodshed as you have. We had other options—we still have them. We can make things better," Albus said in an effort to turn Gellert back to a course of action that better fit into the plans he had spent so much of his time honing, which would allow him to take complete control over the wizarding world.

"No, Albus, it is you who do not understand how much it hurts to have your heart ripped out of your chest—to have all your hopes and dreams dashed in a single moment—to have the very spark that gives meaning to your existence wiped away in a single instant," Gellert said, his voice shaking with anger and grief.

"I understand how you feel, but you are losing sight of the big picture and all that we wish to accomplish in this world." Albus gave his erstwhile associate a chilly look and then Disapparated back home to determine how he could use Gellert's anger to his own advantage.

****Nurmengard prison, Nazi concentration camp****

Things had not gone quite according to plan, but finally things had come to a point where Albus felt he could step in and claim the position of leadership that he so richly deserved. It was with that thought in mind that he approached the German wizarding prison of Nurmengard, which was also being used by Gellert to imprison Muggles of a race deemed undesirable by his regime of Nazis.

Albus watched as his younger self stealthily maneuvered his way around the guards posted outside the prison and through the hallways past many full cells of prisoners, both magical and Muggle. He did not even consider freeing them as he saw no benefit to himself in bothering with them at present. Maybe after he'd done what had to be done he could alert someone to the presence of the captives, and perhaps a few of them might even survive long enough for the Allied forces to get them out; but more than likely none of them would ever see the outside of the prison again.

Fifteen minutes after he entered the prison Albus encountered the man whose death would allow him to achieve his goal. Though he would truly miss his former friend, the greater good must be served; he could allow nothing to stand in his way.

"Hello, Gellert," Albus said quietly.

Gellert spun around from the table where he'd been examining a map. "How dare you show your face here, you bastard?" he gasped, his face turning ashen.

"Now, Gellert, is that any way to greet your friend?" Albus asked.

Gellert responded with a sneer. "I told you before, you stopped being my friend the day you betrayed the memory of my dear Ariana by allowing those monsters to live after what they did. Now, please leave me to my misery—and know this, Albus: it is only the memory of my dear Ariana that stops me from cursing you where you stand. Next time you show your face I swear to you that you will die." Gellert turned around dismissively, never expecting that this single moment of carelessness would cost him his life.

"As you wish," Albus said agreeably. "I had wished that perhaps there was a way for us to salvage the friendship we once had. I suppose, though, that this makes what I have to do just a little bit easier." He pointed his wand at his old friend's back, and with one whispered incantation the Dark Lord Grindelwald was no more.

Albus removed the anti-Apparation wards that surrounded the prison. He picked up the body of the fallen Dark Lord and Apparated to the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic to carry out the next step of his plan.

****Ministry of Magic, London****

The next memory Albus chose was of his presentation of the Order of Merlin, First Class.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today to honor the man who, through selfless determination and unwavering support of all mankind, has brought an end to the war that has raged across the Muggle and wizarding worlds alike. It is my pleasure to present the Order of Merlin, First Class, to the slayer of the Dark Lord Grindewald, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," the Minister of Magic announced.

Albus stepped forward, assuming a suitably humble expression. "Thank you, my friends. It is a pleasure to stand here today before you and know that the world is in better shape than it was before. I must tell you that although I took no pleasure in killing a man who was at one time my greatest friend in the world, for the sake of the greater good it had to be done. Sometimes it is not the easy things for which we are remembered but for the things we must do no matter how unpleasant they may be." He gave the crowd a moment to finish their applause before he continued.

"Now that we have the opportunity to live in a more peaceful world, I look forward to returning to Hogwarts to teach our children the art of Transfiguration. In closing I would like to thank you for coming out to support me today." When he had finished speaking he turned the podium back over to the Minister and headed back to his seat, anxious to return to Hogwarts before anyone could asked him how he had ended the reign of Grindelwald.

Albus exited the Pensieve, deciding he would view the rest of the memories later. The thought of not having control of the "Harry situation" bothered him, but for the life of him he couldn't think of a single way to regain control without completely ostracizing Harry, and that simply could not be allowed to happen. Albus decided that it would be for the best if he slept on the situation; perhaps something would come to him during the night, or maybe in the morning he would have a better idea.

Albus Dumbledore was not the only wizard with aspirations of world domination that spent that evening worried about the young wizard known as Harry Potter.

Hidden away in an Unplottable manor home in southern England, the being once known as Tom Riddle, Jr., more recently known as Voldemort, pondered how the brat could possibly have attained so much power. While the prophecy stated that the brat would be his equal, the being Voldemort had faced in the dreamscape was not his equal—in fact, loathe as Voldemort was to admit it, his power was barely a fraction of what the brat casually displayed, and that fact frightened him more than anything ever had before, even more than when he was a small child in the orphanage and the older boys would assault him.

Voldemort took slight comfort in the knowledge that the old man would not properly train the child for fear that one day Potter would learn of Dumbledore's treachery and deceit and strike him down for what he had robbed him of.

Another thing that brought a small amount of comfort was that Voldemort had many different things set up in order to ensure his immortality. He also had a man on the inside of Dumbledore's organization that Albus would never know about, a man so disillusioned by what the meddling old man had done that there was nothing he would not do to ensure Dumbledore's defeat.

Voldemort also knew there was a spy of Dumbledore's amongst his own inner circle, but he could not yet let it be known that he was aware of that. As these thoughts ran through the mind of the being once known as Voldemort, he allowed himself to think back to the decisions in his life that had caused him to take the path he had chosen to follow.

****St. Margaret's Orphanage****

Young Tom Riddle was a strange child, always quiet unless provoked but quick to claim retribution should his ire be piqued with any individual or group.

One particular day wherein the flames of his hatred for all things Muggle were fanned was his tenth birthday. The present he received from several of the older boys was so painful it was difficult to stand, let alone walk, for several days. That day cemented in his mind just how worthless Muggles were.

Exactly one year later came the day that should have been his salvation, when a man by the name of Albus Dumbledore came to the orphanage and told Tom just how special he really was. Tom vowed then that in time they would all pay for their transgressions against him. Little did he realize just how much his life would change because of that one day.

Tom was sitting in the courtyard—alone, as always—trying to avoid the groups of older boys who liked to torment him, when he saw the man appear out of thin air. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The man had long white hair that reached most of the way down his back, and a beard just as white and just as long. He wore oddly shaped glasses and a strange multi-colored robe. As Tom watched, the man's clothing changed from the peculiar robes to an ordinary-looking brown suit with a matching hat. The man walked through the front door, and several minutes later Tom was called inside by the matron. He knew instinctively that it had something to do with the visitor.

Mrs. Wilkins, the matron of St. Margaret's, watched as young Thomas walked into the room where she sat with the man who had identified himself as Albus Dumbledore, a professor at Hoffman's School for Gifted Youngsters. Apparently Thomas had awarded a scholarship to attend, and since Hoffman's was a boarding school, he would be gone the greater part of the year for the next seven years.

"Thomas, I would like you to meet Professor Albus Dumbledore, a professor at Hoffman's School for Gifted Youngsters. Professor Dumbledore, this is Thomas Riddle, the child you asked to see." Albus nodded and stared at her rather pointedly until she blushed and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I'll let you two speak in private," she said, and as if she'd never so much as thought of staying she quickly made her way out of the room.

"Well, young Thomas, how are you doing today?" Albus asked.

"As well as can be expected living in a place like this." Tom leaned forward and spoke confidentially. "Professor, I'm different from the other kids here. Things happen sometimes that I can't explain. Bad things happen to the people who make fun of me, and sometimes when people hurt me really bad, things happen to them." Albus merely sat there looking at him and nodding thoughtfully, and Tom wondered at himself a little. Why he was being so open with this strange man? It was almost as if something was forcing him to speak.

As he thought about it, he realized that he had a few questions he would like answered himself. "Professor, how did you just appear out of nowhere when you got here?"

"Ah, very perceptive, aren't you, Thomas? What I did is called Apparation, willing one's body to travel nearly instantly from one location to another. It is just one of the things you will learn at Hogwarts," Albus replied.

"What is Hogwarts, and why would I be learning anything there?" Tom aked.

"Well, that brings me to the reason for my visit today. I am the Headmaster of a school of magic known as Hogwarts. All magical children born within Great Britain who display a certain aptitude for magic are sent a letter inviting them to attend the school beginning the first of September of the year that they turn eleven. Children born to Muggles or who live with Muggles have their letters hand-delivered by one of the Professors, because having an owl deliver a letter in a purely Muggle area would shine more light on the existence of the magical world than we can allow to happen," Albus told him.

"Professor, you keep saying Muggle...I don't recognize the word. What does it mean?" Tom asked.

"The word Muggle is used to refer to those who are born without the gift of magic," Albus explained.

"I understand that, Professor, but if I'm magical, as you claim, why do I live with Muggles in an orphanage?" Tom asked.

"Well, Thomas, that is a little bit complicated, but I will endeavour to explain things to you and answer any questions you may have. The first thing you need to know is that in our world there are five groups of people, and many in wizarding society believe the different groups should not mix. The first group, considered to be the lowest, are Muggle-borns, magical children who are born to two non-magical people. They are generally looked down upon by many members of the other groups," Albus began.

"So magical people can be born to parents that don't have magic? How does that happen, Professor? I don't understand," Tom puzzled.

"Unfortunately, nobody can explain the existence of these Muggle-born witches and wizards. In generations past they were a rare occurrence, but lately we are seeing more and more of them. The second group in our society is the half-bloods; this is the group you fall into, Thomas. A half-blood has one magical and one non-magical parent. A half-blooded person's status in society is determined by the purity of the blood of the magical parent, meaning that a half-blood born to a Muggle-born parent would have a harder time fitting in than one born to another half-blood" Albus explained.

"Is blood really that important, Professor?" Tom asked.

"Yes, Thomas. In the wizarding world blood is very important. Now we come to the second-highest blood status, which is a full-blood. A person is considered a full-blood when both of their parents are magical, regardless of the purity of their blood. Full-bloods are normally well accepted in society, even though their parents may be of lesser blood purity than the full-blooded child. This means it is possible that two Muggle-borns, say, who may have trouble fitting into society, could give birth to a child who would not have the same problems," Albus explained.

"It seems to me, Professor, that there's too much focus on who a person's parents are and not enough on what they can accomplish," Tom responded.

"Never discount the importance of blood in our world, Thomas; it is what allows a person to thrive in our society. Now we come to those of the highest blood purity, known as pure-bloods. They are children born of two people of fullblood status or higher. Those in this group are the ones who make up the majority of our government and control most of the wizarding businesses," Albus said.

"So the only way to be successful in in wizarding society is to be a pure-blood? If that's the case, why would someone like me, who's just a half-blood, even want to be a part of a world that doesn't want me?" Tom asked.

"The answer to your question, Thomas, can be summed up in one word: power. Power is the key to the world; if you have power, you can change things. And the lack of power brings us to the final class of people in the magical world—people known as Squibs. Squibs are born to magical parents but do not have magical powers of their own. Squibs are considered outcasts to most of the old families but can still hold some menial positions in our society. So that concludes our discussions on the various levels of blood purity in the wizarding world. Do you have any questions?" Albus asked.

"Well, to be honest, sir, I still don't understand why I would want to be a part of a world that won't accept me, based on my parentage. It seems like it's not much different than the Muggle world, where children are treated badly because their parents don't have enough money—and it's even worse for those of us who don't have any parents or—or don't know who their parents are," Tom replied.

The conversation continued; Albus told Tom a little about the school and then took him to Diagon Alley to get his school supplies. Then it was back to the orphanage until the first of September—the day of Tom's salvation—when thanks to the Sorting Hat he became aware of his ancestry and just how important and special he truly was.

Young Thomas Riddle placed the Sorting Hat upon his head and heard a voice speaking directly into his mind.

"Ah, another of the serpent's children. It has been many years since one of your kind walked these halls. Not since Salazar himself has there been such potential in the Slytherin line. I see greatness in you, young Riddle, but I also see much darkness and pain and death. Yes, I see death following you, always in your shadow, always looming over you," the Sorting Hat murmured.

"Why do you call me a serpent's child, hat? I don't understand," Tom said curiously.

"You are a child of the great Salazar Slytherin, speaker to serpents, guardian of the scale, and master of the Basilisk. Many years before this school was built your ancestor had a vision of a time when his heir would stand on the cusp of world domination; thus he sought the aid of the great serpent of the North. A bargain was struck: his line was gifted with the ability to commune with and command all serpents, save for the great dragons, but in exchange his children would always live under the spectre of death," the Hat replied.

"So am I destined to die young, Hat?" Tom asked.

"The future is not yet written, young serpent. It may be that you will in fact die young, but perhaps you will find a way to avoid the fate that has befallen most of your kin. Few in your family have lived long lives, but always there has been a sacrifice of some sort. But enough of history now, young serpent; it is time for your future to start," the Hat said, and it prepared to announce the House in which Tom would be placed for the next seven years of his life.

The entire hall was silent, waiting for the Hat to make its declaration about the scraggly-looking boy wearing tattered secondhand robes. The split in the Hat that served it for a mouth opened and pronounced, "Slytherin!" Tom removed the Hat and placed it on the stool, then made his way over to the Slytherin table, all the while thinking of what the Hat had told him. Already the wheels in his head were beginning to turn as he tried to think of ways in which he could Ensure that he didn't die at an early age.

Although it would not be known for many years, that fateful September first was the day Voldemort was born.