May 1987

Dumbledore avoided the students mingling in the hallways before the evening curfew. He tripped over a house elf when he got to the kitchen and swore. The elf apologized and scampered out of the way.

Dumbledore opened the pantry door and looked up. He kept the bourbon on a shelf above the door, near the center of the sixty foot tall wall. He raised his hand and an unopened bottle of bourbon came floating toward him. He opened the bottle, walked out of the pantry, and sat at the closest table. He didn't bother getting a glass. He upended the bottle.

Killing Carrow didn't stop the killings. The terrorists are still out there and neither I nor the Aurors can stop them.

He took another long drink. There were shadows in his mind he wanted to forget. He saw a dark-haired boy who admitted he could hurt people and get them to do what he wanted; corpses of former students, like James and Lily Potter; Frank and Alice Longbottom screaming, insane; and a young wizard in the woods who spoke about the greater good.

He hadn't thought of Gellert in years.

Was there ever anything I have done right?

He took another drink and saw the bodies of five students on the ground by the train.

More, and he saw the four muggle-borns floating in the air above his head with blood running down their chests and legs.

Dumbledore's mind was a dangerous place and he didn't want to be there anymore.

He drank more. The bottle was half gone now.

Dumbledore's foot nudged something under the table. He leaned down and grabbed Defense Against the Dark Arts and Magical Draughts and Potions. He opened the first book and scanned the pages, but the words blurred together. He tried anyway and kept re-reading the same sentence, having no idea what it said.

He looked up. Tom Riddle stood in the doorway.

Dumbledore's hand shot forward. The bright flash of light and force knocked the dark-haired boy on his back.

"I should have killed you myself, Tom!"

Dumbledore stood up with energy collected in his fists. He walked across the room and stood over the boy, who had gotten the air knocked out of him. The boy's features blurred.

Aaron threw his arms in front of his face as Dumbledore raised his hands. "I'm not Tom!"

Dumbledore tried to make the room stop spinning. The boy's long hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes were different.

It's not Riddle.

What have I done?

Dumbledore lowered his hands. Aaron coughed and rolled on his side.

Dumbledore reached down to help the boy up. He took his arm. Aaron pulled away from him.

"Don't fucking touch me," Aaron said, his hands still raised.

What have I done?

"I am so very sorry."

Aaron stood up and backed away from Dumbledore.

"I thought I saw someone else," Dumbledore said.

He was too drunk to stand. He grabbed onto the doorway for support.

When he looked back at the hallway, the boy was gone.

What have I done?