These Mistakes You Made

AN: Ah hem. This was supposed to be finished in like... October. Or something like that. Between taking an advanced math class, being in the "smart group" for every other class, sports and other non-school things, and trying to clean the house up for my birthday (12 more days!), my very little free time has been spent either curled up in a ball trying to hide from the world or playing a borrowed a Zelda game. Or Sims 3. Or curled in a ball hiding from the world while playing. Anyways, this chapter technically ends on September 2nd. This chapter is literally just one night.

There's a light at each end

of this tunnel you shout

'cause you're just as far in

as you'll ever be out

and these mistakes you made

you'll just make them again

if you only try turning around

-Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick

Dumbledore stood and made his usual I-will-give-a-speech-later speech before saying, "Tweak! Flit! Zip!" Harry blinked. Not the same, but... He looked towards Hermione to see if she to noticed the change. She was biting her lip and flicking a curious glance at Dumbledore. Neville, on his other side, appeared far more interested in his food than whatever Dumbledore said. He noticed the other first-years chatting among themselves, and after recognizing it as the same from last year, he let the conversation wash over him paying it only the barest of attention.

The food was delicious. Steak, peas, corn, pie, cake, pudding, rolls, corn, ice cream, and oh so much more. The desserts were extravagant, as were the decorations. Nobody in the their right mind would really use gold plates for anything less than a feast. Then again there were quite a few who claimed Albus Dumbledore was not in his right mind, albeit fondly. The feast was much the same as last time. Harry would later swear he even heard the exact same conversation between Percy and Hermione the last time 'round. Although, not many people would ever hear him make the claim for the simple fact there were few he could tell. Dumbledore stood and made his usual beginning of year announcement.

Once more, the world passed unto the first night of first-year in which many a strange dream did appear. Harry, however, slept surprisingly easy. What he did not know was that many of the older years stayed up late into the night discussing the Hat's song. Decisions were made, opinions changed, and fates decided.

Draco Malfoy did not. He tossed and turned as if fighting some unknown force. It went late into the night, long after most dreams were lost and forgotten in throes of sleep. It was then a voice entered whatever dream he had, pleasant or not.

One simply does not fight Fate passively. Freeing oneself from her whims and fancies is far harder a task than imagined. Fate does not simply play with you or make you her pet. This Fate is cunning, sly, and above all intelligent. Do not underestimate her, and do not underestimate Time and Chance. Luck will call you into her service. The changes made to fate will be greater than even Fate wanted.

Augusta Longbottom sat silently contemplating the changes in her grandson. Her warm cup of Earl Gray and the roaring fire in her fireplace were doing nothing to ease her troubled mind. It should not be something she should be worried over, but the speed with which the change occurred was troubling. One night he was a clumsy, scared boy with little confidence in himself, and when he woke up the next morning he was clumsy, courageous boy with just enough self-confidence to not be over-confident. It was a puzzling change that could not be solved by drinking tea and staring at the red curtains in her sitting room.

She sighed and placed the tea-cup and saucer on the table beside her chair. It was late, very late. A good night's sleep was in order. Merlin only knew what sort of mischief her grandson would find himself in, and she'd need that sleep to deal with McGonagall. She massaged her forehead in an effort to stave off the migraine coming from just thinking about having to deal with that... woman.

Augusta would forever remember the misery the woman had put her through in school. The number of humiliating pranks McGonagall had put the school through. Augusta shook her head as she slowly climbed the steps towards her bedroom. As a prefect, Augusta had been the one to clean up the mess left behind. Then, McGonagall had grown, become a teacher, and performed a complete one-eighty. She could quote all the hypocritical letters from McGonagall about Frank.

Her favorite was, "Augusta Longbottom, how could you let your son fall in with this crowd of miscreants? Just because he is forced to room with them doesn't mean he needs to win their favor!" If she remember correctly, the event in question involved sending catnip as Christmas gift. She had heartily approved and sent a Howler calmly stating this fact. For her birthday a month or so later, Remus, Sirius, and James had sent pictures of McGonagall's and everyone else's expressions.

She smiled sadly. How had they fallen so far? They had been so close, and when they weren't into mischief, so sweet. It was utterly unbelievable. Or was it? The fourth boy, (Paul was it? No, Peter.) he hadn't been very close... That day had been such a mess, and now that she remembered, Black had never had a trial. She had forced herself to attend all the trials, even the Lestranges' where she hadn't been allowed to participate. All the others though, she sat stiffly on her seat and voted guilty or not.

She supposed she may not have remembered properly. She was getting on in age now. Either way, maybe she ought to see the Director of the DMLE. Hadn't she been friends with dear Alice or some such? Amelia... Bones? She made note of it on the small notepad she kept on the bedside table. The muggles created such ingenious things...

Lady Chance was at her viewing window again. McGonagall was far more correct than she would ever know. Change was coming fast, far faster than it should. There was another player in this game, a genuine unknown. She could feel the probability and statistics swirling around her, the pure chance of each event. Too much of this, or too much of that and the careful balance leading to Voldemort's defeat and a happier future for all skewed towards a much darker fate. She turned and exited the room, shawl billowing behind her. She needed to have a talk with Fate, and possibly Luck as well.

McGonagall sighed. While her new-found opinions on Dumbledore were enlightening, they would not help her prepare for the coming onslaught of concerned parents wanting to know of their babies made it through the first night okay. At some point, she would have to deal with Augusta Longbottom who still hated her for the various pranks she had pulled but couldn't be pinned on her. She searched for the firewhiskey she kept hidden for occasions likes this. Dealing with Longbottom was like trying to steal an egg from an angry mother dragon. Scratch that, Longbottom probably was part dragon.

McGonagall shook her head. She did not want to try to imagine how that would work. She reached for a stack of papers containing the usual paperwork. 'Why does Albus never do this himself? It's his job, and maybe he'd have a better grasp on who his students were if he did...'

She settled in for the night eventually falling asleep around one. She snored gently, shot glass devoid of firewhiskey by her head and papers concerning funding, grades, scholarships, and other such matters scattered around her.

Amelia Bones collapsed into the closest chair having barely made it through the door. Not only was she working overtime on the Black case, but she had sent her niece off to Hogwarts. Soon, Susan would be off into the real world, doing who knows what. It was times like these that made her wish Hogwarts started a year or two later. Oh the things she would give if it could just Susan and her for a little longer.

She looked visibly deflated and felt far worse. It was days like these that made her glad that the Ministry had made September 1st an official holiday with a paid day off work. She groaned and dragged herself from the chair and moved towards her office. The place was in a state of disarray. It didn't even qualify as organized chaos. As she started organizing, an owl flew in through the open window.

It dropped the message on her desk and flew back out before she had even registered that it was there. Noting that it was addressed to Director Bones, rather than Amelia Bones or even Madame Bones, she carefully opened it, and promptly threw a tantrum. The damn fools on the Wizengamot had decided to delay her time slot until sometime late May, and even then it still might be another month or two until she got her time in front of the imbeciles. She growled as she flung the notice into her fireplace. In one smooth motion, she withdrew her wand and cast a flame charm much more powerful than Incendio. She watched with satisfaction as the letter burned in a roaring fire.

She returned to organizing the room. The cheery, Hufflepuff yellow of the room no longer matched her mood, nor did it do anything to calm her down. The night dwindled away as she cleaned and organized her office.

Lady Time tried the door again. It was locked. Not just locked, but impossibly locked. It had always been locked. It had been locked since the day it was made. No way to turn it back through time. There was only one place to get this sort of lock. The stronghold from which she came. How though, could her captors have procured one?

These locks had been special made during the war as a precaution. She remembered how the Lady of Secrets had made each. Fate's lock had a fate that was set in stone, impossible to change. Both Luck's and Chance's had been made so there was no chance of them ever opening and no way to affect those chances.

She pulled back and tried again. There had been a secret to opening the lock. It had been added in case of a situation like this. The secret required a second Lady, in Time's case Fate. Time highly doubted Fate would find her way here anytime soon.

Her captors were waiting for her to break, for what reason she knew not. She crawled back to the small bed in the room. It was barely big enough for a cat, let alone a full-grown woman. She curled in on herself trying not to remember the painful war that had led to there only being four of them left.

Dumbledore wondered when things around him had started to crumble. As he reached for lemon drop, he supposed it was too early to use the word crumble. At the moment, his problems were still rather few. Fawkes was missing, McGonagall seemed to have a small grudge, and Black had broken out of Azkaban. If he put on a pair of rose-tinted glasses, he could even say all was well.

Not many knew anything about phoenixes. It would be easy to claim that Fawkes was simply off in search of a mate or some-such. McGonagall was most likely still upset over leaving baby Harry on the doorstep. She'd get over it eventually, it was for the Greater Good after all. Black, on the other hand, was far more troubling.

Still, it was semi-fixable. In fact, it could even be helpful. All he'd need to do was pull Black under his influence, and Black would influence Potter. From there it would be easy to keep the brat under his control. Yes, a much easier plan... He rewarded himself with a lemon drop and leaned back in his chair.

As he relaxed, he turned off the lights and looked out at the stars. He could name most of them, and there right in his line of sight was the star Sirius. It was as if the star itself approved of his plans. Little did he know there were two men out there looking at the same star with a completely different opinion, and that would be one of Dumbledore's greatest mistakes.