A/N -BONUS! Two chapters in one day! I finally get a chance to write dialogue with Dumbledore, which is so much fun. Also, kudos to anybody who can point out the familiar conversation in the last chapter. Who knows where we've seen it before?

Enjoy! And keep the reviews and notes coming!

Chapter 16 – Dumbledore's Request

Harry gasped.

"Sir! You're… early!"

"Am I?" said Dumbledore. "How nice. I always like to leave a little wiggle room, timewise, to prevent missing something, as I'm sure you remember from your little run-in with the Wizengamot this past fall." Oh yes, he remembered, although Dumbledore's "wiggle-room" at that time had been several hours. "But tell me, Harry, what is it exactly that I am early for?"

Harry looked down, unwilling to meet those eyes again. He was breaking laws as well as rules now, and wasn't particularly keen on admitting it. One thing he'd never been able to handle very well was Dumbedore's disappointment. Still, he'd already lost his secrecy, as Dumbledore was capable of seeing through the cloak, and if he said nothing, he might delay the headmaster from actually going in. This, right here, was why time travel was so strictly forbidden. Dumbledore seemed to read that sentiment in Harry's eyes.

"Meddling with time is a dangerous thing to do, Harry," he said sternly.

"Yes sir. I know, sir."

"Which leads me to believe that your reason for meddling with it so grossly must be very important indeed." The old professor tipped his head and gazed at his former student over the top of his ubiquitous half-moon spectacles.

"Yes sir, but I can't really, I mean, there's not much time."

"Time? Time is no obstacle. I stopped it as soon as I saw you, believing as I did – and I think, correctly – that there was quite a story to be heard here. You see, I was under the impression that you were inside the Ministry trying to get out, and not outside the Ministry trying to get in." The eyes Harry had not seen alive for so long twinkled merrily. "Severus was quite adamant that you had rushed off to rescue Sirius. I must confess, I am somewhat intrigued by this turn of events."

"You stopped time?" Harry asked incredulously.

"It depends from which angle you are looking," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "From our perspective, once this conversation ends, we will be returned to the exact moment in time that it began. In this case, you could indeed say that I stopped it. However, if you were to observe us from over there," he waved his hand vaguely at a point to the side, "you would see a sort of multicolored blur of constant motion for a split second, which would be you and I. So you see, it is not so much that I have stopped time as that I have sped us up within it so that we may fall without it." He winked at Harry, who couldn't help but smile. "A useful trick, especially if one has a curiosity with being in two places at once, as I have."

Harry stared at his mentor, drinking in his words as a drowning man might gulp at a puddle. For the third time in only a few days he was faced with, and conversing with, a dearly loved person he knew to be dead. It was all a little bit too much, and he began to shake slightly. Dumbledore noticed this, and helpfully suggested that they sit down.

Once they were comfortable settled, Dumbledore said," Now, Harry, tell me what is going on."

"Well, sir," Harry gulped, "you see, I did go to try to save Sirius, but it turned out that it was me and not him that really needed saving, and he came to save me, and..."

"Died?" finished Dumbledore.

"He fell through the veil, sir," murmured Harry.

"And now you've come back to try again?"

"Yes sir. And for a good reason, sir."

"A good reason," said Dumbledore. "It could very well be a good reason to you, Harry, but I must ask you if you have put your personal feelings aside in this matter and considered the repercussions. For example, if Sirius dies, and then is suddenly walking around again like nothing happened, it could make things very awkward. Also, it could change your own history, your own past, which could alter the future you, and it could get very complicated very quickly."

"I am aware of that, Professor. I have in fact taken those things into account."

"Have you?" Dumbledore looked pleasantly surprised. "I assume you have a reliable plan, then?"

"Yes sir."

"Well that, at least, is an improvement from your first attempt," said Dumbledore. Harry winced.

"Well, it was a bit spur of the moment then, sir. I've had quite a long while to plan this out. And there's quite a bit more to it than saving Sirius. However important he is to me, I wouldn't be foolish enough to risk all of this simply for my own emotional gain. That would be both selfish and completely stupid."

Again, Dumbledore looked pleased. "I'm glad to hear it, Harry. It's good to see that you've grown and matured in the several years since you were last here. I look forward to seeing it happen in real time."

Harry's eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, but tried to cover it with a cough. Of course, Dumbledore wouldn't get to see Harry grow. He would die before the growth really started, but there was no way Harry could say that now, although it was weighing heavily on his heart. He schooled his expression into a sort of half grin, but he was sure the Headmaster's ever-watchful gaze hadn't missed his conflict. Harry tried to control the conversation again. "So, what do we do now? I'm clearly breaking the law, so you'd be aiding and abetting if you let me by, and I have full confidence that if you really wanted to stop me, you'd have no trouble."

Dumbledore gave a little hmmm under his breath. "Well now, that is a bit of a puzzle, isn't it?" he said. "Of course, the laws must be upheld. But I have always believed that in times of dire circumstances, the need may arise to go beyond laws and regulations in order to bring about a positive change. The definition of a "positive change" can of course be argued any number of ways and from any number of viewpoints, but I tend to believe that your intentions, Harry, are almost always those that promote the betterment and well-being of our society and of the people in it. Knowing you as I do, I think it is fair to say that you have reached a point in the future where you have realized that you are no longer capable of bringing about change on your own. Perhaps there has been some great tragedy, or a shift in Voldemort's favor. I cannot say. But I do know the glint of desperation and determination when I see it. So I will ask you this: Is what you will gain from this, what the world will gain from this, enough that you would weigh the cost of the entire future against it? Are you willing to risk everyone in the wizarding world, and all the consequences that could befall from you making one small, but fatal mistake?"

Harry had already asked himself all these questions, so he knew his answer very well. "Professor Dumbledore," he said seriously, "I don't believe it's a risk at all, because if I don't succeed at this, then all those people won't have a future at all."

Dumbledore took in these words, and his expression became very grave. "That is a severe prediction, my boy. I think perhaps you may underestimate the human desire for a free future, and their ability to make it happen."

"With all due respect, sir, of the two of us sitting here, only one of us knows what I'm talking about. So at the moment, my experience outweighs your optimism."

Dumbledore looked momentarily taken aback, and he studied Harry more keenly than he had been all along. "I see," he said finally. "It would seem, then, that the decision has been made."

Harry breathed out in relief, until he remembered the reason why he was sitting out here in the first place. "There's only one problem, sir."

The twinkle returned. "You can't get in."

"Yes sir." Harry felt himself sink down a little under Dumbledore's appraising stare.

"Well, we'll have to fix that," the elderly professor said at last. He got to his feet and waved a hand in front of himself, and Harry felt his stomach drop as time slowed to its normal pace. Without another word, Dumbledore turned and walked along the wall. Harry followed, chiding himself a little for feeling like a schoolboy again. But then, he supposed, he always would be where this man was concerned, and no matter how old he got, Harry would never be able to stop calling him "sir."

When Dumbledore reached the far corner of the feedhouse, he stopped and turned around, waving his hand again. Harry's heart skipped a beat. "You just did the time thing again, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Dumbledore replied. "You see, there is something else that has been bothering me. I would like to make a request of you, as an adult to an adult, since I feel there is no need for me to be giving you orders or instructions anymore."

Harry gulped. "What is that, sir?"

"Do not try to circumvent my death."

Harry gaped at him. "You… how did you know?"

"I merely had a suspicion until you confirmed it just now. You have been eyeing me with something akin to grief this whole time we've been speaking, and the moment I mentioned my eagerness to watch you grow up, you reacted as if you were in pain. You have always held your heart on your sleeve, my dear boy," the old man said fondly, "and so you are not difficult to read." He smiled, and then sobered quickly. "You see, Harry, I know all too well the desire to see those we love again after they have died. It is why I had the mirror of Erised so far removed from the population at Hogwarts, and also why I allowed my brother Aberforth to keep our sister's portrait at the Hog's Head. You and I, Harry, love fiercely and grieve deeply. It would be so easy, once you had successfully saved one person close to you, to try and save another, and another, but death is something that should not be toyed with so carelessly. I am an old man, and bound to make a fatal error at some point. Death is inevitable. I do not fear it, and I do not desire to avoid it. And so, I must ask you, do not attempt it. You are already crossing a line that ought not to be crossed, and I must impress upon you the gravity of that decision. Making it a second time would be more than unwise; it would be foolhardy. It would be naïve. It would be deadly. That is a road, Harry, which you must not start down. It has devoured many a strong-willed witch and wizard, and I would be greatly burdened if it were to claim you as well."

Harry nodded slowly. "I wasn't going to try, sir, to save you I mean," he said. "I think… I think I almost needed you to die, so I could wake up. I think what happened needed to happen in order to strengthen my will. I don't think I would have been able to accomplish what I have if I was always leaning on you. I needed to stand up on my own, and as long as you were there, I never really could." He gave a half-hearted smile. "I guess I'll just never know how you learned to speak Mermish, or any of those other things I wanted to ask you."

"Ah well, I can't say I'm disappointed about that," said Dumbledore with a chuckle, his previous stern manner dissipating like a puff of smoke in the wind.

"And why is that, sir?"

"Because," Dumbledore leaned in conspiratorially and tapped the side of his nose with an index finger, "my students wouldn't like me half as much of there wasn't an element of mystery about me, now would they?"

"Actually, sir," said Harry, struggling to keep a straight face, "I think your students like you because you're cracked."

A slow smile crept across the old man's face. "Let's just leave it that we agree they like me, shall we?"

"All right, sir," said Harry, grinning.

"Now then, I believe there is a large black dog requiring your assistance. We shouldn't leave him waiting any longer."

And with that, time resumed its natural course, and Dumbledore turned to a section of the wall that housed a small metal bulkhead, long rusted over from disuse. It opened with a loud creak to show a rickety stairway and a small cement storage area with a brick wall on the far end. Taking out his wand, Dumbledore tapped several bricks in a sequence, much the way Hagrid had done in Diagon Alley so many years ago, and the wall slid away to reveal the dark marble checkerboard floor of a Ministry corridor.

"It is always wise to know more than one way in and out of a building," said Dumbledore, and led Harry down the passage. "The Department of Mysteries should be straight ahead, then left, than another left, up the stairs and then on the right," he said, "In case you wanted to go on ahead."

Harry wanted to do exactly that. His footsteps echoed forebodingly in the hall as he hurried on towards the room with the veil. This route took him around most of the chaos from the battle, but he still saw some spell damage and broken glass as he ran. He skidded at last to a halt by the door he so desperately needed to find, but he couldn't go in. He could hear the battle raging, could hear familiar voices, but he also felt the ricochet of spells hitting the door, and didn't dare try to slip in not only unnoticed but unscathed. He'd have to wait for Dumbledore to catch up.

And catch up he did. Dumbledore came around the corner at a brisk walk, took in the sounds of battle, nodded to Harry, and burst through the door with the power of Merlin himself. Harry slipped in behind him, hugging the wall and holding his cloak tightly around himself. He knew it wouldn't take long for the Headmaster to clean up the mess. He saw Tonks fall and Bellatrix move off towards Neville, only to be intercepted by Sirius. He saw himself hauling Neville away, saw the prophecy twirl through the air, and Neville's horrified expression as it smashed on the stone. He saw Sirius make his last defiant stand and Bellatrix cast the final blow.

He closed his eyes. He didn't need to see this again, not when he knew it by heart from its repetition in his nightmares. But then, he couldn't shut out the sounds.

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Nooo! Sirius!"

"Harry, you can't help him…"

"He's NOT DEAD!"

And finally, just as he was beginning to think he would start screaming himself; "She killed Sirius! I'LL KILL HER!"

Crouched down on the stone, muffling the sound as best he could with the cloak, Harry felt rather than heard Bellatrix swish by through a door, cackling in perverted joy. And then there were his own footsteps hot in pursuit, and for the first time Harry became aware of the surge of power that followed him. The walls seemed to shudder as he ran by, and there was an unnatural silence for a few seconds after he'd passed by before Harry became aware that there was still action in the room he was in. This was something he had not been witness to before. It exploded around his ears.

"Idiot boy, what good is he against her right now?" came Moody's growl. "He's too angry. He'll have no control."

"Tonks! Tonks, are you all right? Say something!" That was Kingsley.

"Shacklebolt, take her to St. Mungo's, and get yourself looked to as well!"

"Remus, Remus come on, let's go. Leave him." Moody again, being uncharacteristically gentle.

"I can't…"

"You must. Think about Harry right now."

"Oh Merlin, Harry! Dumbledore, you have to do something!"

"I want everyone out of this room, now!"

"Ha, so you finally got your comeuppance, Malfoy."

"Don't sound so smug. This is far from over."

"It is for you!"

The room emptied quickly, until the only two people left were Harry and Dumbledore. The wise old wizard turned and looked at the boy crouched by the door. "Move quickly, and do not be seen," he said.

"Thank you sir, for everything."

Dumbledore nodded, and was gone with only a swish of his robe. Harry sped to the veil, uncorking his little bottle of potion as he went and downing it in a single gulp. He did not look back again. The potion burned, and seemed to move far too slowly down his throat, forcing Harry to swallow four or five times before he was fully confident it wouldn't come back up. Still, it didn't take away the uncomfortable sensation of a glutinous substance coating his insides. The feeling spread throughout his body until even the very tips of his fingers and toes were tingling with it. With shaking hands, Harry pulled a thin, sturdy piece of magically enhanced rope from an inner pocket on his robes and tied it securely around his waist and one of the columns supporting the domed roof of the room. He could barely feel his fingers by the time he'd finished securing the knots. The potion had caused a deathlike chill to attack his limbs, and he sank painfully to his knees before the veil, gasping for air. The potion would protect him from what he found on the other side of the veil, his mother had said, but he hadn't considered that it might also make living painful. And so, in his building agony, he did the only thing that made sense in his swirling mind: he leaned forward and plunged his head and torso into the warm blackness beyond the veil.

Many miles away, and some five years in the future, the man once known as Tom Riddle awoke with a start from a very strange dream.