A bright Sunday Morning,

Two weeks after the Great Noodle War.

Perhaps, two years ago-surrounded by portraits of Headmasters, Harry would have fidgeted before a silent McGonagall. That had not changed.

He splayed his fingers under the table, taking in his time to look around the Headmaster's Office- Headmistress', he supposed. Most of the trinkets, unsurprisingly, were nowhere to be found. Other than Harry, McGonagall and the portraits, the room was occupied by almost nothing else.

Harry would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the slight shock on McGonagall's face. After all, Harry looked nothing like he used to. Ron had once called him the 'shabbier Bill'.

McGonagall wasn't fazed for too long; Lacing her fingers together, she motioned at Dumbledore's portrait.

"Good Morning Mr. Potter, I take it you wish to understand why you're here? Albus believes it's time to let you know.", McGonagall turned on her seat briskly, "Albus, He's here."

"Let me know what?"

"Albus."

In the portrait, Dumbledore shook slightly, "Forgive me Minerva, but would crystallising a Dragon's- Ah, Mr. Potter, it's wonderful to see you.", Dumbledore stroked his beard, "You see, the beauty of an unanchored mind is the freedom in its flow of thought."

If he didn't know better, Harry would say Dumbledore had become scatter-brained; Harry didn't know better.

"Minerva, if you would, please.", Once McGonagall left the room, silently closing the door behind her, Dumbledore straightened in his seat.

"It is vital what I tell you must not be known to the world at large. Minerva graciously allowed me to directly pass this knowledge to you. This knowledge has a great deal to do with the recent history of Magical Britain.

You see, contrary to the public views, there was no great battle between Albus Dumbledore and Grindelwald."

"What?", why was Dumbledore calling himself 'Dumbledore'? His tone didn't match the way Dobby used to talk; it was almost like Dumbledore wasn't talking about himself.

"Mr. Potter, what I mean to say is— ", Dumbledore shook his head slightly, "—let us begin anew.

Are you aware of the various theories surrounding the universe and magic?"

"Vaguely.", that's to say, Harry had heard Hermione mention it once or twice, in sixth year.

"Nonetheless, I shall explain it to you. One of the theories suggests that there exist infinite worlds in this universe- a parallel phenomenon, if you will. Naturally, this has not been proved. Do you follow thus far?"

"Yes, Professor.", Enough exposure to Dumbledore had taught Harry patience. Dumbledore wouldn't tell him all this for no reason.

"That is to say, this theory had no evidence. That is, until 1945. In 1945, I entered a parallel world, this world."

Had this been told to Hermione, she would have exclaimed in surprise. But Harry didn't know enough to realise the improbability it held. What Harry did realise was this-

"You travelled here? That means you're aren't from here?", Harry was starting to lose the track of the conversation.

"Precisely. In 1945, the year Grindelwald was defeated- I appeared in this world. The Dumbledore from this world was dead, due to some blood oath. So, I took his place and dueled Grindelwald. Fortunately for all of us- he was defeated."

Harry consciously unclenched his fists, something about Dumbledore's expression didn't bode well. He understood most of what Dumbledore said. So, this is why he denied the claim of a 'great battle'. One question was bugging him, though.

"Okay?", why was he telling him all this? Harry hastily continued, "Professor?"

"Yes, to you it may not hold much significance yet. Mr. Potter, you must understand -the world I left behind was in shambles, at least, Britain was. Hogwarts had been decimated. All of this was done by a Dark lord, one you're intimately familiar with— ", Dumbledore sighed, "—Voldemort."

Harry felt a slight stir in his gut. Though what Dumbledore told him sounded horrific, he couldn't help but think that wasn't the worst of it.

"I appeared in this world with an aim, to plead for the help of the only person who could save my world. I had only one clue to this person's identity- his magical signature. But, to my surprise, I ended up decades in the past- in 1945.

I waited for years-continuing to personate as this world's Dumbledore, and finally I felt his magical signature for the first time.

After years of futile searching, I did find him. Of course, he was merely a baby -a baby who had done the impossible. You."

"Huh?", Harry didn't understand. Him? Was this another prophecy? Had Dumbledore kidnapped him to defeat the Voldemort in this world? Was this world not his? His world was in shambles? But—

"—Mr. Potter.", Dumbledore's voice startled him,"— this is your world. When I saw you for the first time, I knew your presence was vital to this world. I could not, in good conscience, take you away from a world you're needed in."

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes conveyed what he didn't say- this world had a prophecy. But if he hadn't gotten the help he needed, did that mean Dumbledore's world was still not okay?

"I implore you to listen very carefully. I am aware I've only ever given you misfortune, and once again -I'm desperate.", Dumbledore bowed his head, this posture reflected his age. "Please, help my world."

The gravity his words held made Harry hesitate. His nerves chilled when he realised how frail Dumbledore appeared, how weak. He didn't look like he had won a duel, he looked like he had lost the same one a thousand times.

"Sure, what can I do?", with that, he sealed his fate.

As Dumbledore began explaining, his grave tone constantly permeating through the office – for the first time since Sirius' death, Harry felt acute despair.