Come Together Chapter 16 - A Dumbledore Interlude

AN:

Oni: Sal-U-Tations! It's been a while, hasn't it? Life's been busy with a few changes and various projects and whatnots, but mostly its been me, writer's block, and very poor time management to blame for nothing getting updated for so long.

Tom: For shame, Oni, for shame.

Oni: Anyways, it took me a while and I do hope you enjoy this actual Interlude before the second arc. Which will hopefully not take nearly a year to come to y'all.

Tom: Oni does not own Harry Potter nor the MCU, she is only destroying the sandboxes.

Oni: AAAAAAND ONWARDS!

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had made many mistakes in his life. His greatest, by far, was his blind devotion to Gellert Grindelwald in his youth. And truly, it was blind. Love had blinded him to the reality of the wizard that became the worst Dark Lord in the modern era. How could he not have seen the truth that laid beneath the magnetically handsome features, ignored the cruel and sadistic nature behind that beautiful wide smile? How did Albus not notice that he was being used, manipulated by someone who strung him along for his power alone? Aberforth, his younger brother (whom he had not listened to, whom he drove away with his actions), had known the truth. Albus, too, had eventually opened his eyes and saw the monster in that sparkling smile. But dear Ariana's life was the price of his illumination, as was the love that Aberforth had for him (before he had looked up to Albus, now he glared at his once-hero in contempt).

That day he lost everything.

After that, Albus had trouble trusting anyone. He closed in upon himself, keeping most of his thoughts within the confines of his mind. But he had persevered in his studies, dove into his work as if to silence the coming storm, and quietened the roar of sorrow as he watched the man he once loved (no, still loved, after all this time) become a monster (or perhaps he had always been one). He had shed countless tears listening to the atrocities being committed by Gellert as he hid behind the walls of Hogwarts, feeling powerless and at fault for the horrors. He took up the mantle of Transfiguration Professor (because, in the back of his mind, he knew these children would need to be able to defend themselves from Gellert's attacks and machinations).

The auburn haired wizard threw himself into the proverbial fire (the world a haze, a blur, a sense of nothingness and everything), studying magic left and right in order to find a way to stop the wizard with the ambitious, shining eyes (they now shone in madness, and it hurt to see, it haunted his dreams). But at some point during his quest for more knowledge, Albus realized that he was stalling. The truth manifested one night as he awoke from another nightmare (Gellert's crazed expression, Aberforth's cold frown, Ariana's glassy eyes), fear and shame coursing through his very veins. He was afraid to face Gellert, unable to bring himself to fight the man again.

Then, one day, he felt his world turned on end.

Blue eyes that were a shade just past unnatural had stared up at him from a too-thin, too-sharp, too-pale face. Tom Marvolo Riddle was brilliant, cunning, and charming, even at the budding age of ten. Just like Gellert. Albus didn't want to admit it, but it was the sheer similarity to his unreciprocated love that set him on edge around the boy, and perhaps he had been a tad harsh to him at the Orphanage. He tried to be unbiased, to treat the boy like any other student (even as his eyes shone with ambition, as he commanded the crowds with his smile and power), but he couldn't help but look at Riddle and see someone else (blonde, wavy hair instead of dark brown, heterochromic eyes instead of ever-shifting blue).

Riddle didn't make things any better for himself, turning into what Albus feared would be a carbon copy of Gellert. His followers (because so few of them were truly the boy's 'friends') practically bowed to him, parroting his words of wizard supremacy and the disgusting lowliness of muggles. When Myrtle Warren died and Rubeus Hagrid was found guilty, Albus had known better. But now he had become like Aberforth, for no one would believe him when he insisted that Riddle was to blame. Then over the summer he had vanished, and Albus feared the worst, and his nightmares showed him the two handsome figures standing side by side as the world burned around them.

The next time he saw those shifting eyes, however, they burned with determination.

"We have no choice." he had said.

Five followers of Gellert were downed, dead or trussed up. Tom stood opposed to them, side by side with muggle soldiers. Wand in hand, and yet those around him did not seem surprised by his power, as if they had already seen it. Accepted it.

"You have done nothing to stop him." he had accused of Albus.

Yet they weren't filled with hate, those eyes of living blue. They were filled with a kind of protectiveness, daring Albus to try to get to the men behind him. Something welled up within Albus, an emotion he never thought he would feel for the young boy that had walked in the steps of Gellert. Pride.

"Someone has to, and it's through these men." he had proclaimed finally.

Albus had watched in hidden awe as a student who once advocated Gellert's methods vouched for the muggles in his company. There was a camaraderie between them, a sense of respect (but not like him and Gellert, or Riddle and his past followers. This felt more personal, more real). Tom Riddle had come back from Austria (for that's where he was, the young man had told him when debriefing Albus on the current nature of HYDRA and their ties to Gellert) a changed man. He had done the one thing that Gellert never did - learned to care about others for their character alone.

From that day forward, Albus decided to try trusting again. Perhaps the burden of the war needn't fall to his shoulders alone. A partnership with the muggles' Strategic Scientific Reserve was formed and Albus made sure that the nature of the group was kept within the confines of the ICW and the Wizengamot. Even the Ministry was only on a need-to-know basis, Minister Spencer-Moon gladly joining forces with Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Before Albus' eyes he saw the first threads of his dream (a beautiful dream, one twisted by a beautiful man) come into fruition. Muggles and Magicals, working side by side as equals, each unafraid of the other. Colonel Phillips (he had been given a stern run-down of military ranks when he had called the man Mr. Phillips) had only rolled his eyes when Albus summoned sheets of paper to his place on the table, the other soldiers in the Howling Commandos barely batting an eye. Next to them had been Tom (and hadn't that been odd, seeing the boy not sneer in disgust at his own name, instead accepting it as a part of who he was) himself, snickering as he taught the men how to swear in Parseltongue in a low voice.

As the months passed Albus came to the revelation that he had grown to care for the boy, no longer a mere mirror image of the man he had fell for (in the two proverbial descriptions of the phrase), but his own individual. Snarky and caring, eyes gleaming with intelligence. The protective nature he saw budding that day in the pub had only grown, as had Albus' own. To make sure they couldn't attack him due to his change of heart, Albus had discreetly removed any mention of 'Lord Voldemort' from the minds of Tom's old followers. This proved to be a prudent move, as 'Lord Voldemort' soon became synonymous with 'blood-traitor' in radically Pureblood circles.

He'd done everything in his power to make sure this endeavor succeeded, and it felt good to know that not only was Albus not alone, but the people he was surrounded by made quick headway without him having to watch them. In fact, other than a few political machinations on the magical end, Albus didn't have to do much of anything. It was with a lighter heart that Albus returned to Hogwarts the following year of 1944.

On the evening after the NEWT exams a large flock of owls descended upon the Great Hall, the Daily Prophet clutched in their talons. An emergency edition had been printed, and for a moment Albus had feared the worst. Splayed across the front page was the title "WAR OVER: HEROIC LORD VOLDEMORT KILLS DARK LORD GRINDELWALD" with a mugshot of Gellert and a photograph of Tom in his soldier garb below it. Details of the fight and its aftermath were printed, and the volume of the Hall rose as student and faculty alike cheered at the end of the war that had threatened to destroy their world.

But not Albus. Blue eyes no longer twinkled as he read the article, his emotions clashing and fighting one another. Relief that the war was over. Worry over the state of the currently hospitalized Tom. Anger, an emotion he was ashamed of feeling, because it was directed toward Tom for killing the man with the glinting grey-and-blue eyes and for putting himself in harm's way. Anger at Gellert for falling so far, at himself for not being able to face his old flame on his own.

And now here he was, standing at the edge of a cot in the underground SSR medical bay, gazing down in sorrow at the young man who wasn't waking up. His physical wounds were well on the mend (a large gash on his arm amongst other injuries will surely leave scars), but Albus could clearly see the signs of total magical exhaustion that had yet to abate. Tom's already pale enough skin now seemed to lack any color at all, as if he were made of paper rather than flesh and blood. Tubes with life-sustaining nutrients were attached to him, the Muggle contraption both fascinating and foreboding to the auburn haired wizard, feeding someone who had been asleep for days already.

From what Euphemia and Agent Carter had told him, Tom had tapped into a previously unknown well of wild magic - stemming from his frost giant heritage (and hadn't that been a surprise to find out?) and had begun using it in a manner far too refined for someone only recently discovering it. If Tom had merely used up his 'human' magical core, his 'Jotunn' core would pick up the slack and replenish the empty well. But during his fight against Gellert Tom had exhausted both wells.

Even worse still, Agent Carter claimed that the young man had been under the Cruciatus curse for a good minute after he had already used up most of his magic and still managed to disarm the wizard before falling unconscious. A brilliant feat indeed, though now it was a question of what state Tom would be in once he awoke. If he woke up at all. Tom had already been asleep for a full week. Longer than any person who normally suffered magical exhaustion would have stayed under (well, out of the ones that lived, considering that they starved beforehand). The Muggle machine was keeping him alive, but for how long? With a completely empty core (and an unknown state of mind), it was only a matter of time before the reserve would cave in on itself and with the amount of magic Tom had been unknowingly pumping into his body it would not survive the collapse.

Howard (as he insisted on being called) in the meantime had found the Tesseract (an artifact he'd only heard of in legend) in the ocean, intent on retrieving Captain Rogers' body. Albus has the distinct feeling that the man just didn't want to see the young wizard that he had grown so attached to, so used to his rapid fire quips and razor tongue, silent and comatose.

Albus sighed. Indeed, the hopelessness of the situation was affecting all of them. While his mind went through ways of helping the boy, Howard had wheeled a case on a trolley over to where Tom laid. Quick fingers flipped the latch and lifted the lid, revealing a glowing cube that sent out waves of power. The ever-shifting blue felt bottomless with energy, but not the kind that saturated this world. It felt unknown and infinite. It was breathtaking, and yet a kind of fear ran down his back. Standing next to the cube felt like standing at the edge of the universe, a vast void all around him, beckoning for him to take a step...

So this was what Gellert was after, his purpose of joining forces with HYDRA. The Tesseract was indeed an object of great power. Godly, even.

"I say we zap him with this." Howard stated seriously, motioning to the cube that pulsed calmly, "Tom told me this thing was solid magic, capable of running magical objects and technology like some sort of battery. If HYDRA can power their wunderwaffes outta the Tesseract, then we can jumpstart a magical core, right?"

He did not like the way it felt as if the artifact was agreeing. It's energy suffocating, oppressing, and yet searching for something Albus didn't think he could comprehend. It reminded him of a boy who once walked the halls of Hogwarts, his magic rolling off his form as his followers floundered to please his every desire.

"In theory." Fleamont answered tiredly, "But this is an artifact that even us magical folk failed to understand, despite its obvious nature. To toy with it and my boy's life would be madness."

That same boy did what Albus never could, and was now suffering because of his own inaction.

"Turning a sickly boy from the streets of Brooklyn into a supersoldier was madness." Agent Carter interrupted, her arms crossed and her dark eyes defiant, "Going into enemy territory to save one man was madness. Trusting a boy who could down armies with a single wooden stick was madness. Desperate times call for desperate measures, Monty. I would rather have Tom die knowing we tried to save him than let him waste away wondering if we could have."

For a moment there was simply silence, as the two wizards regarded the unflinching gazes of Howard and Agent Carter. He applauded them for their loyalty, truly, but this was something completely out of their league of understanding.

"Tom's already unusual core may not accept magic from something so foreign." Albus sighed out, his blue eyes having lost its twinkle since finding out the news.

There was some looks of confusion from those of Muggle background, which led to a lecture on magical signatures by Albus. To explain the differences between magical cores, he had used a charm that revealed the nature of one's individual core, the 'signature' that was much like a magical thumbprint.

"You see, cores vary in size and color." Albus had begun, his wand moving in a complex pattern that he had picked up during a sojourn in Nepal, "This varied nature is why wands only bond to the wizard that best matches them. Magic is a picky force. As you can see..."

The pulsing violet light that was his own core manifested in front of them. Soon the blazing orange of Euphemia's also appeared. Howard raised his hand.

"What if we get a power source close enough?"

"Technically families would have a similar core makeup." Fleamont answered, "Unfortunately-"

"He's Oliver Twist." Howard interrupted, pacing, "But he's already used the Resurrection Stone in his Shield. Maybe we could-"

"No!" Albus interrupted quickly, "The Stone is one of the Three Deathly Hallows. It has proven to be useful downing enemies, but using death magic to give back life is not a path I would suggest going down."

"Then the Tesseract is our only option." Howard argued, "If it doesn't match, then so be it. But we have to try!" the inventor then slumped, looking for all the world a defeated man, "Bucky's gone. Steve's gone. I'm not gonna lose the kid too. Not when he's right here where I can save him."

"Would it be possible to change the energy signature to match Tom's?" Agent Carter questioned after a minute of silent contemplation, "Tweak it somehow?"

"We could if we knew what his signature looked like." Fleamont explained with a frown, "But unfortunately it's been rapidly changing since his Jotunn blood first manifested itself. Feemie had to get a new diagnostic reading for every time he came in here. And if he's already begun using frost giant magic, then his core would have mutated into something completely different. As Albus said, it was most likely unstable before Tom emptied it."

"Then it really can't get any worse than it already is." was Howard's resolute proclamation before he began to bustle around the lab, "I'm going to have to couple the Tesseract to a device similar to what we zapped Cap with. Shouldn't be too hard. The Vita rays were my idea anyways, just gonna siphon this blue stuff instead."

"And how are you going to make sure he doesn't explode by having too much energy in his core?" Euphemia asked with a quirked eyebrow as she watched as the muggle laboratory aids hefted some rather large equipment around.

"I'm assuming we stop whenever he looks as if he's about to explode." Agent Carter answered as she tossed a few cords of some metal rope material, "Here are all the spare wires, apparently."

"I can work with that." Howard replied distractedly as he began to write things down in that little notepad of his, "I can pull more out if we need them."

The next few days were filled with a kind of nervous, hopeful energy as materials were gathered and designs were drawn up. Albus dropped in every day, checking in on Tom and the status of the machine they were building. Soon what appeared to be an egg-shaped device was formed with the aid of those present in the room. The speed of which muggles worked was almost astounding!

The wires that came from the device led to another, smaller device that now contained the Tesseract. It would power the machine as well as siphon the Tesseract's energy into whatever was placed in the center. Howard banged the out casing with his hand.

"This is just plating so we don't get fried by the radiation." the scientist explained, "While it might not kill us, I'm not risking radiation poisoning to find out."

"We need a little help getting Tom inside." Agent Carter told the Potters, removing the feeding tube from the prone young man's mouth, "He's too heavy to carry."

Albus felt like he was simply a spectator, one that was there simply to provide support and to witness something once-in-a-lifetime.

Howard had put on heavy goggles, a switch (as he called it) in his hands. He peered through the clear plate that showed Tom's face, turned to the gathered group, gave a thumbs-up, and flipped the switch. A flash of blue light emanated from the Tesseract, hidden by its harness. Almost immediately the metal began to hum, a resonant noise of highs and lows as the energy flowed down the wires. The inside of the egg shaped casing was enveloped in a painfully bright light that Albus was unable to look directly at. A blue sun pouring its essence into the wizard inside.

Beads of sweat poured down his forehead as the temperature rose to an uncomfortable level, but he didn't dare cast a spell in such a powerful, yet highly delicate moment. Time seemed to stand still as everything wavered around him, waves of energy pulsing from the device only felt by those who were born of a power similar.

"He's burning up!" Albus faintly heard Agent Carter say before he blacked out, "Shut it down, Howard!"

When Albus awoke again, he was in one of the cots in the 'med bay'. All his muscles felt sore, as if he had been battling a storm for days. Beside him was Euphemia, who was tutting to herself as she looked over her still-unconscious husband. The sound of moving fabric had the mediwitch turning his direction, narrowing her eyes at the Transfiguration Professor and clicking her tongue.

"I told you both not to accompany Howard and Peggy in refilling Tom's core. And what do I get? Two more patients." she admonished as she began her diagnostic charms and hummed, "It appears that the two of you were overwhelmed by a burst of power from that cube. Thankfully it didn't cause any lasting damage. Honestly! Do all of you here have no sense of self preservation?!"

A groan from behind her signifies that Fleamont was awake. As the woman began her diagnostics on the middle aged wizard (who looked decidedly sheepish but most definitely not sorry), Albus sat up to regard Tom, who appeared to still be sleeping. There was a little more color in his face, however, and the older man could once more feel the power rolling off his form. Just like when the boy was at Hogwarts, and returning from Nurmengard. Tall and proud. Strong and unyielding. Just like...

"How is he, Euphemia?"

The mediwitch straightened up and cast her gaze towards the sleeping young man. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. She appeared to be thinking of how to word her findings.

"His core is… mostly stable."

"...You paused." Monty pointed out.

Euphemia made a humming sound that conveyed affirmation. She looked around the room, and Albus followed her gaze. Howard Stark and Agent Carter were not present, most likely getting some rest or (in Howard's case) studying the machine post-use. Nodding to herself, the Potter woman continued in a slightly lowered voice.

"I may not know the spell that allows you to see what the core looks like, but the diagnostic spells keep coming up… odd. I'm not sure how else to explain it. Sometimes it would show that his core is filled, other times it would claim it is empty. Despite that, his cursory diagnostic always comes back positive. I've never gotten such different results before, and it worries me."

Well, that had been both informative and confusing. And Euphemia was a rather straightforward person. What could be the cause of such a result? Curious, Albus got up from his cot and walked over to the young man in question. Carefully performing the spell, he waited for the image of Tom's core to right and reveal….

What was that?

The glowing blue core was much larger than the average wizard's (although this could be attributed to his manifested Jotunn blood) and it was pulsing, as if breathing. Alive. Its colors of shifting blue matched the Tesseract, and the center… the center of the core was dark. As if it were a hole, sucking in and giving out magic. Unable to stop himself, Albus walked closer to the manifestation of the young wizard's core. The nearer he came, the heavier the core felt, as if it were simultaneously pushing him away and pulling him in. Blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles peered at the core, and realized that he was looking into an abyss. A vast void. It led somewhere, and Albus had an inkling as to where.

From behind him, Euphemia and Fleamont gasped.

A magical core, Albus had once heard from his good friend Nicholas Flamel, was like a miniature star. It generated energy that fed the world around it, saturating the environment with energy. Changing life and reality. Were a wizard or witch exert too much power and empty the core, the star would die. And like a star, a magical being that died of an empty core would yield horrendous results on the area around them (depending on how strong the core was) as the empty shell collapsed in on itself and imploded. This was the nature of magic, to feed and generate this power within them, a core of finite energy that should naturally dissipate into the surrounding environment upon a healthy, natural death.

This core however… this was unnatural. The energy (that was magic, still blessedly magic) in front of him could not be found in nature. What the Tesseract had given was something that was eternally a part of itself. A tether to a cube of unknown and ancient origins. What would happen if Tom exerted himself to the point of exhaustion again? What laid beyond into the void? What burden had they unwittingly put on a young boy only a few years into manhood?

A burden no-one should have to bear.

"I believe that what has been done cannot be undone," Albus stated quietly, his voice shaking silently with an emotion he couldn't quite explain properly as he canceled the spell, "And must not be used on anyone else. Tom cannot not know the entirety of what we have done to him."

Even though they were never entirely close, Albus would like to say that he believed he had a decent grasp on the young man's mindset. Tom had always been inquisitive, and was always one to push the boundaries of magic until they either went no further or he found something past it. The young wizard was told he was of Jotunn blood and immediately utilized it well knowing that there would be consequences. If he were to know what his core truly was...

Infinity was not meant to be pushed by the likes of mortal men.

Just as the Potters nodded in assent, Howard and Agent Carter returned. They brought with them some food and appeared to be doing well despite their exhaustion. Agent Carter opened her mouth (probably to begin questioning Euphemia on Tom's status) but paused in whatever she was doing. Immediately her jaw clicked shut as her eyes widened, looking somewhere beyond them.

"He's awake!" she exclaimed rather suddenly, rushing over to the cot, "Tom!"

Surprised, the others in the room followed her lead. How could they not have heard him wake up? The med bay was small and quiet, and Albus himself was already standing near him. Behind him, Euphemia gasped again, but this time it was followed by a choked sob. A lump formed in his chest as an answer formed in his mind. Peering down at the young man his fears were realized. Indeed, Tom's eyes (the blue eyes that were painfully like that of the Tesseract) were wide open.

Staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Tom are you alright?" Agent Carter asked, worry creeping into her voice as no reply came.

Fleamont placed a firm hand on his wife's shoulder as she began to break down, a mournful expression on his face. After what they had done to replenish his core, it was all for naught. Here laid the truth of those who suffered too much under the Cruciatus Curse. Insanity. Unable to truly comprehend things around them, awake but not there.

"What's wrong with him?" Howard demanded, turning to the only people that could have an answer.

"He's in a kind of vegetative state." Fleamont managed out, still looking at Euphemia, "He's alive, but his mind is lost to madness."

To say that Agent Carter and Howard didn't take the news well would be an understatement.

In the days that passed, it was rare to see Peggy leave Tom's side, or Howard resting. It was almost commendable, how they still haven't yet given up hope. The inventor was certain that he could find a cure, pairing with Fleamont and Euphemia, pouring over experimental potions and attempting to combine them with modern chemistry. On the other side, the proud agent that had downed Gellert was doing her best to rouse him using traditional Muggle methods. It worked somewhat. Tom would sometimes turn to those calling his name, mainly when she or Howard did so, but was never truly aware of his surroundings.

"This is common for those who suffer from the Cruciatus Curse for long periods of time, Agent Carter, Mr. Stark." Albus explained sadly, staring morosely at the unseeing stare of Tom Riddle, "There has never been a case where they come back into lucidity."

Howard growled, furiously writing everything that came to mind on a glassboard, "Yeah? Well those cases didn't have me!"

"There's nothing that can be done." Albus replied softly, "Please believe me, if there was any chance at all, I would-"

"There is something we can do, and we're gonna do it! Whatever it is, we're gonna find it, and we're gonna bring Tom back, ya understand me? They said I couldn't make the world's first Super Soldier, and look where we are now! I am Howard Goddamned Stark! I can do anything!" He punched the wall, screaming in rage and defiance.

Peggy sighed, replacing the flowers she had brought to try to get Tom to rouse more. Forget-me-nots, Albus noted. He admired the muggles' optimism, their tenacity in the face of insurmountable odds. Even when their work was futile. Albus lent his mind to Fleamont and Euphemia, bringing in parchment rolls of different potions, both experimental and official, so that Howard could pour over them.

"Please come back, Tom." he heard Peggy whisper, her hands clutching his as determined brown eyes bore into vacant shifting blue.

"Okay so this potion says that it's made to connect one person's mind to another." Howard began, rushing over to where the wizards and witch were sitting with a roll of parchment in his hands, "It didn't work, but if I've got the process right, it may be able to reconnect someone's mind. All it needs is some sort of jumpstart - nonmagical so that it doesn't interfere with the potion."

The parchment was rolled out, kept open by the goblets that the magical folk had been drinking out of. Howard himself had migrated back to the glassboard, writing out some sort of chemical equation (as Albus learned they were called) along with some other diagrams that Albus honestly couldn't wrap his head around.

"Adrenaline should counteract the side effects of the concoction, and might just be the boost he needs to reawaken his mind." Howard continued, turning his eyes to the Potter head, "I think we can do this, Monty. I think we can wake him up."

Albus saw the flicker of hope cross the faces of both of the Potters, and wondered if he should intervene. But hadn't they already done the impossible already? Hadn't these muggles, combined with a knowledge of magic, brought down the Nurmengard fortress, and just a few days ago refilled a wizard's core with a cube of infinite power?

Unfortunately Albus could not be away from his duties for too long. He had lessons to plan and politics to play. Minister Spencer-Moon was constantly asking about Tom's health status and had not yet been notified of the lad's condition. It was better this way, the Transfiguration professor thought to himself, than to burden others with such uncertainty, not when the world was celebrating. He bid his leave to the Potters and the painfully hopeful muggles, hearing Howard state resolutely to the insane young man on the bed:

"I'm not going to give up on you."

If only it were as simple as that, Albus thought to himself sadly.

The next time the auburn haired wizard managed to find time to visit the underground headquarters (his heart heavy as he willed himself to bear the bad news that would have reached him eventually, as the mediwitches had done with Ariana), his ears were graced by a rather different sound than he had been expecting. Laughter. Joyous, not broken, coming from the med bay. Curious, and a smidge hopeful, Albus crept into the med bay to find the Commandos (all of the ones still living, that is) gathered around a cot, animatedly retelling their part in the battle.

And there, laughing with a wide smile and blue eyes shining with intelligence, was…

"Tom." Albus called out, as if he couldn't scarcely believe it, "You're…"

"I am awake and lucid, Professor." the young wizard answered with a crooked grin as the Commandos shifted a little to give the older man room to approach the cot, "It seems that your combined efforts have indeed paid off. With a bit of bed rest I should be back in action. That is, if I survive Feemie's doting, she's been on a warpath since I woke up."

The Commandos gave a hearty laugh at Tom's plight as he winced for effect. Albus was still stunned. Indeed, the Muggles have achieved the impossible yet again. Every time Gellert's words on how hopeless they were got quieter and quieter, and hopefully one day they will no longer plague him. In front of him Tom gave him another lopsided smile before turning back to listen to his comrade's (Albus believed this one called himself 'Dum Dum') retelling of their side of the battle that helped win them the war. It was still odd to Albus, who had seen the way the boy had acted in Hogwarts, to see the once mad and power-hungry teen as a calmer, more tired young man. War changed people, he supposed.

He left the happy group be, feeling slightly intrusive of the moment they were sharing. Instead Albus decided to seek out Colonel Phillips in order to discuss the next step now that Tom was awake and lucid. There was much to be done, after all. People were still celebrating the end of the war, and certain people wanted ceremonies done for the heroes. One of which had finally 'woken up'. Minister Spencer-Moon had expressed his desire to meet with the young man that had led them to victory, though according to reports it seemed that the one to actually kill Gellert was not Tom at all.

It had been Agent Carter who pulled the trigger.

Speaking of Agent Carter, she appeared to be finishing a report of some kind, typing away as a 'folder' (an interesting piece of stationary that Albus decided to purchase himself and he must say, his own lesson plans and notes were far more organized now due to them) was open next to her on the desk. It seemed that now that Tom was back, the air of tension in the SSR had all but dissipated. Agents busied themselves with some job or other, reminding Albus a bit of the Ministry.

Howard Stark was apparently packing up his things. Now that the war was over, he was getting ready to return to the States. So were many of the people here, including the majority of the Howling Commandos, apparently. It made Albus wonder what Tom's next steps were, now that he was essentially a war hero. Then again, there was much to be done before he could even think about such things. With that in mind, Albus continued his search to find the man in charge.

Albus did not attend the belated funerals of the war hero known as Captain America. He did not know the man well enough to feel right about attending his, or any of the funerals for the muggle soldiers that had lost their lives to Gellert and HYDRA. It wasn't his place.

He noticed the empty look of sorrow on the young man's face when he returned from the States, his eyes slightly red although he hid his despair well. But Albus could see it, because hadn't he done the same when Ariana was killed? Only eighteen years old and yet he had the haunted expression of someone who has already endured too much, lost too much. Albus didn't even feel like he really noticed until this moment how tired Tom looked, and wondered if he should do more to help him.

What he was there for, however, was the day that rocked the Wizarding World. Oddly enough, this particular instance didn't deal with Tom directly. Minister Spencer-Moon had declared that he would give Order of Merlins to those who had been instrumental to downing the Dark Lord Grindelwald and ending the war. Obviously everybody was expecting Lord Voldemort to show up.

The Transfiguration Professor had attended along with Fleamont and Euphemia, both of whom were now each wearing the gold medal with a purple ribbon of an Order of Merlin, Second Class. He watched as Tom, in full uniform, strode up to the podium where Minister Spencer-Moon was excitedly standing with a golden medal in his hands, the green color of the ribbon indicating that it was an Order of Merlin, First Class. Spencer-Moon spoke a few words of Lord Voldemort's above and beyond bravery and heroism in taking on the Dark Lord Grindelwald, before turning to the man in question.

Gloved hands went to the helmet-mask he wore and lifted it off his head, revealing the dark hair and shifting blue eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle. There was no sudden gasps at the revelation, only silence out of respect for a boy only two years into adulthood who had brought down one of the most powerful Dark Lords in recent history. His head bowed as Spencer-Moon placed the medal over his head before walking next to the man as the Minister brought out one more Order of Merlin, First Class medal out.

This piqued Albus, and everyone else's, curiosity. Who else would they be giving one of the most prestigious awards in Wizarding Britain to? Minister Spencer-Moon seemed to regard the medal for a few seconds before stepping back up to the podium.

"Witches and Wizards," Spencer-Moon began, "What is about to be done is something that has never happened in the history of this Ministry, but is something that I believe is an indication of the joyous future of our world. As some of you may know, while Lord Voldemort was the one to face Grindelwald, he was not the one to down him. So today I am going to give this Order of Merlin, First Class, to the one who not only killed Grindelwald, but who's tenacity in the face of great danger is why Lord Voldemort still stands with us here now."

To the shock and horror of many traditionalists, Agent Carter strode up to the podium wearing her SSR uniform, a smile on her face. As the medal was hung around her neck, all was silent in the Ministry Chambers. The stunned nature of the crowd allowed her to momentarily enjoy the moment of triumph before some of the wizards finally processed what had just transpired and started to shout in indignation. Within minutes the chamber was divided by the controversy. Some took it as a positive sign of change, but many saw it as an outrage to go against the beliefs they had all held so dear.

A muggle with an Order of Merlin, First Class.

Albus never thought he'd see the day that happened, never mind the handshake Agent Carter shared with Minister Spencer-Moon before escaping the pandemonium with a wide grin alongside a cackling Tom Riddle. A sign of change, indeed. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him, especially since some of the wizards and witches were still sitting in their seats, staring at where Agent Carter had just received the highest honor any magical could be given.

Interestingly enough, Abraxas Malfoy (taking after his father, it seems…) seemed to be among them looking slightly green even in his fine ministry robes, but was not partaking in attacking Tom nor Agent Carter. Curious. Very curious. Albus did recall Malfoy to be a rather close follower of Tom's when they were back at school. Could it be the platinum blond man still feared the Heir of Slytherin? He supposed it was likely. Tom has been a powerful figure even in school, but now he'd been instrumental in taking down the most powerful Dark Lords in modern history. Malfoy was of the political sort, so Albus knew that the young man now had a difficult choice to make: Go against the very beliefs he had been raised to protect and support, or go against the most powerful and influential wizard in modern history (one he knew, or at least thought he knew)?

Pondering this also to himself, Albus Dumbledore watched the Potters leave jovially before going further into the fray to try and calm down the madness that had broken out. The annoyance of having to do so still not outweighing they amusement as to the reason why the chaos had ensued in the first place.

Needless to say, a couple of wizards ended up in St. Mungos with some rather inventive spell effects. It looked like Tom took care of any pursuers with ease, and that some frustrations were taken out on one another in the Ministry Chamber. Ah, well, it wasn't the worst meeting Albus had been in, though by far it was the most amusing. Indeed, Tom Riddle seemed to have a knack for keeping things… interesting.

What could Albus expect from him in the future? Albus pondered this as he stopped Minister Spencer-Moon from getting turned into a goose by levitating a chair to take the spell instead.

Omake: Honk

The goose that had been transfigured from a chair had followed Albus back to Hogwarts. He wasn't sure how or why, but for some reason the rather innocuous looking goose had decided that following the greying auburn haired wizard was a good idea. Albus thought it rather amusing, and so allowed it to roam around the grounds.

This was the beginning of the chaos.

Soon items were reported as stolen by the bird, who would wander around and honk at both students and faculty alike. It stole tableware, precious items, and even a couple of Albus' favorite socks. The greenhouse was a mess, some of the mandrakes were plucked to the point that many students were carried to the Hospital Wing, the ghosts can't seem to catch it, and even Peeves was up in arms when his hat somehow was stolen. It seemed to have made a pact with the giant squid, as it would carry off its goods to the other end of the lake to where Albus assumes it had made its home. It was oddly intelligent for a goose, that was for sure, and if it weren't for the fact that the Transfiguration Professor knew where the goose was from, Albus would have assumed it to be an Animagus. Silvanus Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, was unable to catch it, and Rubeus Hagrid (the poor lad) nearly lost his beloved pink umbrella to it.

The final straw was when Headmaster Dippet's prized strawberry and ling plantations were ransacked. Needless to say Armando was up in arms about it and marched to where it was honking at a screaming Ravenclaw, snapping off a 'Finite Incantatum' and reverting it back to a Ministry chair before blasting it away. Albus watched the Headmaster smugly announce that the goose would no longer would be a problem.

His smug smile was gone the next day when the goose showed up again as if nothing had happened. As more frustrated screams filled the courtyard again along with the familiar honks of the nameless white goose, Albus could only sigh and shake his head.

Who could have predicted that a goose would be so much trouble?

AN:

Oni: So that's all for now, folks! I do hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Tom: If you did, please Follow, Favorite, and Review.

Oni: And I will see you next time, my pretties!