MY PLACE

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his wonderful universe don't belong to me, but to the real wizard, J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 26: War Scars

Professor, Headmaster, Founder of the Order of the Phoenix, Defeater of Grindelwald, and wizard genius stood humbly outside the door of Trudy Longbottom's house. It wasn't very big in size and a moment of doubt welled up in Albus Dumbledore's mind.

Could Trudy take on a toddler, and that was so special? For Dumbledore still believed of Neville's importance-even if he was not marked.

Forcing the second's doubt from his mind, Dumbledore knocked on Trudy's door. However, his knock still lacked the jauntiness it used to exhibit. This role of asking relatives to take in kin of theirs was all too familiar from the long dark days of yesterday. Harry Potter had not vanquished all.

Indeed, it was only yesterday that the youngster came into the spotlight and Dumbledore had found himself slipping the toddler to his only living relatives.

War had definitely left its scars-and they ran long and deep. The wizarding world still had a long time to shake all vestiges of the war from them.

Dumbledore certainly had other scars than the oh so helpful one on his knee, but some were like his knee. He had inflicted the wound upon himself during his teenage years, and now he could feel that similar grim, numb pain that came with self inflicting wounds. Only this time it was deep within his heart. It was a dark twisting and wrenching feeling that had occurred just last night outside of number 4 Privet Drive.

He had been too late. Neville was parentless like Harry because of him. Neville didn't need to have this extra connection with Harry Potter-he already had enough.

The sliding of a bolt shook Dumbledore back to the present. Smoothing his silvery beard and shifting Neville's weight around he prepared himself again for what he was about to say.

"Hello?" came the hesitant call from a crack between the door and doorframe; "Oh, it's you Headmaster."

The door swung wide to reveal the graying woman, who Dumbledore couldn't help but notice looked less than in her prime. Her frame had started curving in on itself and there was something in her eye that spoke more age than her body.

Her eyes looked dead. Dumbledore wasn't sure whether that was because of the war or something else.

Nervously, he cleared his throat and uttered a small regretful; "Bad business, I'm afraid."

That was when her dead eyes zeroed in on the toddler with him. There was nothing more than a small flicker of recognition in them before the dead swallowed it up.

"I see," she croaked.

Dumbledore was a tad surprised by her flat, knowing tone. He cleared his throat gently again; "I'm terribly sorry."

"I can imagine."

Dumbledore's head shot up at her tone again.

"What happened?"

Ah, a spark of compassion, it was very reassuring.

"I was-er, too late." Dumbledore replied softly then repeated; "I'm terribly sorry."

Trudy nodded numbly and Dumbledore felt that feeling in his heart again.

"Neville," she said simply holding her withering arms out for the toddler-no questions asked.

Dumbledore's heart winced; "Erm, yes, Neville."

"Thank you," Trudy Longbottom whispered softly accepting Neville into her arms; "I'm sure you did what you could. They're dead are they?"

"Er, no..." Dumbledore responded twisting his beard anxiously with a pain in his heart again; "They were actually...er, tortured mad..."

Trudy Longbottom's dead eyes at Dumbledore's last statement were emblazoned in Harry's brain as he woke from the dream.

The words "tortured mad" had stirred something inside him, and he knew he had to wake up if he didn't want to hear Frank and Alice's screams again. These reenactments were definitely tiresome.

In the morning it showed.

Harry had deep purple bruising streaked beneath his eyes-a sure sign that he had not gotten anymore sleep.

"Harry are you sure you're alright?" Lily asked for the fourth time that morning.

Harry grunted with his head nearly falling into his porridge as the urge to catch a bit more shut eye overpowered him.

Lily grabbed Harry for the third time that day to save him from actually falling into his porridge.

"M'fine," Harry replied thickly.

Lily's look of concern only increased though, and she looked down the table for Frank and Alice to aid her.

She finally spotted them sitting down near James and his friends. They appeared to be deeply immersed in a conversation of sorts. Lily squinted at them and strained her ears to hear what they were saying.

A slapping sound from her left and scattered giggles attracted her attention to the situation at hand. Harry had finally fallen into his bowl of porridge.

Lily gazed desperately down the table at Frank and Alice. However, when she noticed they were laughing right along with James and his friends she looked imploringly around the Hall for help.

Her eyes rested on the High Table eventually, and she saw Dumbledore staring seriously back at her.

"Ennervate!" Dumbledore said firmly coming to Lily's aid.

Harry stirred; "M'fine,"

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore admonished; "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

Lily nodded eagerly beside him.

Harry was startled at the Headmaster's voice and rubbed tiredly at his grainy eyes. He squinted up at the two of them and sighed.

"Alright," he conceded; "Maybe I do need some help..."

Lily grinned at this and opened her mouth to proclaim something along the lines of "I knew it", but Harry cut her off.

"From Dumbledore," Harry continued and upon this stared inquiringly up at the wizard.

Dumbledore appeared intrigued while Lily fumed.

With twinkling eyes he offered; "Harry, why don't we go discuss the details in my office?"

Harry readily agreed to this as Lily's blistering looks were getting stronger.