Author Notes: This chapter can be a tad bit…boring. But it also contains a flashback that my BETA, Tantz, (who saved this chapter from a pointless backtalking to a sincere talk) found interesting. Tell me what you think about it.

One thing: I've written another story. A short one shot named "Friendship" about Snape's time in Hogwarts. It would be great if you read that.

Chapter Nine:

He woke up to the sound of someone humming a strange lyric under his breath. He didn't open his eyes until two minutes later. The light was thankfully less bright than before. He turned his head to see Dumbledore beside his bed, smiling as always.

'Doesn't he have anything better to do than pestering me?' he thought.

"Good morning Angel." Angel hesitated.

"What is the time?" he asked without meeting the headmaster's eyes.

"Three O'clock in the morning." Angel paused.

Dumbledore was ready to say something else when the boy asked in that low, guarded voice, "don't you ever sleep?"

"Well, old people need less sleep to say the truth."

Another lengthy pause followed. This time, however, Dumbledore was prepared to wait him out.

Indeed, quite a few minutes later, Angel asked again, "why stay here? Aren't you supposed to be trying to kill… him… and send me to...," he shut his eyes, "…to Azkaban?"

Albus had to struggle hard not to flinch. The boy's voice was empty. There was no trace of sadness, anger or any other emotions in his tired voice. He sounded…resigned, if anything.

"Nobody's going to send you anywhere, much less that horrible prison," he said kindly, gently putting a hand on the boy's arm. Angel only snorted bitterly, unconsciously shrinking away from the old man's touch, as if guarding for potential blows.

"I was serious…and honest." Angel's eyes flashed open.

"Nice try," he said, this time his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm, and shut his eyes again. The following pause was so long that made Albus wonder whether the boy was still awake. As if on cue, the boy opened his eyes tiredly, his unfocused gaze swinging around the room.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he said gently.

"No." The boy answered shortly, turning his head to the pillow.

Albus was thankful that the boy wasn't looking at him, with those gray blue eyes that reminded him strongly of a pair he had tried hard to forget for so long. He had had no problem during the tests, when the eyes were filled with life and determination. He was afraid of what he would see in them now…or better said what he wouldn't. He wasn't sure he could look in empty accusing eyes, staring up at him. Reminding him of the identical unmoving pair, staring lifelessly up at him in a battlefield. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, he had been simply ecstatic about the boy; he had sounded promising, all those uplifting signs as well as the sorting result. And now this: a hopeless, desperate and bitter child who would probably have more reasons to go dark than his father did.

'He won't,' he vowed silently, 'not until I'm alive.'

Meanwhile, Angel had different thoughts. He felt decidedly frustrated.

'How can one persuade an old fool to leave them alone?' Angel asked from himself.

'Especially when he is being so disarmingly and infuriatingly kind?' A voice in his head added wryly. He scowled, becoming even more frustrated, if possible. He desperately needed to cry, but it was impossible. He would be damned if he showed the slightest bit of weakness in front of his father's greatest enemy.

'Does it matter anymore? It's not like you truly care at this point… or do you?' He was too tired to think about it.

"Please, leave me alone." He mumbled from the pillow.

"But you need to talk if you want to come over it…to survive." Angel surprised himself by actually laughing. But there was honestly no better answer.

'Oh yes! Of course I want to survive and live my life tolerating your sympathetic gazes and foolish smiles as the Dark Lord's disowned son in Gryffindor…rejected by both sides.'

'Not that I care being rejected by the light…I have nothing to lose do I?' Angel swallowed a sob. He understood too late that he had said the last part aloud.

The dry laughter made Albus' blood freeze. It wasn't a good sign. And a few seconds later, the boy voiced a thought he himself had bore for so long, but had never dared to say it aloud. He had feared that the answer would be negative and he would be driven insane at last, he had always banished the thought with different excuses. The boy was braver than he was then; he was a true Gryffindor.

"You have no right to think like that," he said firmly. It was probably too harsh to state it like that, but the boy needed some life be jolted into him. Angel turned toward him again, it was obvious he was having trouble focusing, but his glance was mistrusting and unbelieving regardless. He was actually happy to see the anger fill the boy's eyes again.

"I have no right? I have no right? And would you care to say why is that?"

He smiled calmly; he liked outbursts. Imprisoning emotions inside you would result in frustration. Severus was a live example.

'He shows it, at least. But imprisoning frustration will result in insanity.' He banished the thought with ease gained by years of practice.

"Because you are only fifteen. You haven't even started your life yet. There are so many things you have to experience. If you do that you understand that the world isn't that dark a place. There is always hope. Besides," he hesitated, the words refusing to leave his throat. The boy's untrusting gaze met his eyes and made him blurt out, "that's the same thing that made your father become…what he is."

The boy arched his eyebrows.

Angel hadn't expected that one. He had always thought it was only the pronounced thirst for power that sometimes harbored on insanity, but now it sounded quite different.

"Why did he think so?" he heard himself ask. Had dad been through the same ritual?

'Who cares?'

'I do.'

'And why?'

'I don't know.'

'You are grasping at the straws. You only want to find a reason to live. To regain some worth.'

'What's wrong with living?'

He marveled at how he had managed to win in a discussion against the annoying voice, at last. He turned his attention back to the headmaster who was now looking in empty space, with no twinkle left in his eyes.

"I'm not sure," he answered, "he wasn't very popular between his fellow Slytherins, because of his Muggle origin. Considering his father, he felt…rejected. I admit that he struggled hard to prove himself, he was always the first in his class, prefect and later head boy, a complete model student. Perhaps everything would have changed if someone gave him the acceptance he always longed to get. Then he turned dark. The more evil he became, the stronger the thought got in his mind."

There was a mutual silence before Angel said quietly, "he doesn't want to have anything to lose, that's why he tried to kill me…and my mother too."

It didn't help very much to make the situation easier, and he didn't know whether he should believe the headmaster or not, but was better than nothing. Dad had said he was the most popular boy in the school at his time. But the lie fit with the acceptance thing. He shut his eyes and wished for the thousandth time that it were all a horrible nightmare. He remembered a talk he had had with his father on a night he had seemed to be a little…out of character. But could he trust the Old Fool with his father's private affairs? He sighed.

Albus was on the edge of a break down. He was tired and his mind was unfocused.

'Liar.'

'I didn't lie.'

'Not saying the truth is hardly different.'

'It will damage the boy even more.'

'That's not the reason. You lied because you are a coward.'

'The boy will lose his trust in the light.'

'The boy will lose his trust in YOU.'

The boy's wavering voice jerked him out of his ruminations, "he doesn't want to have anything to lose, that's why he tried to kill me…and my mother too."

Albus had to admit he was impressed by how wise the young boy sounded. But a moment later, the boy voiced the old man's dread.

"I thought he had a grand father who loved him."

Albus cursed himself for changing the topic. He felt a big old lump in his throat. Why? Why did the boy have to say this? He closed his eyes, invaded by old memories…

… The gray haired man stood straight, no sign of fear evident in his figure. His wand was dropped a few feet away, snapped in two. His gray blue eyes locked with a light blue pair behind cracked half moon spectacles.

"Finish it Albus."

Albus pursed his lips and steadied his wand.

"You are cruel."

"I know I am." The shorter man smiled at his former friend's misery.

"I won't," Albus said as he lowered his wand. "I can't do this."

"Why?"

"You know why," Albus snapped.

"All I know is that I would do this if I was the one who had the wand."

"You wouldn't. You are lying."

"Am I?"

Albus avoided the other man's eyes, knowing that they would confirm their owner's truthfulness.

"Do it, for my sake," Marvolo said in a soft voice. " They will give me the dementor's kiss."

Albus felt he was standing in front of his best friend again.

"I can't."

"You can. You must. Please Albus, I can't bear it."

None of them moved as many shouts and moans were heard.

"Dementors! RUN! Run for your life!"

Albus shut his eyes and rose his wand.

"Thank you," Marvolo said in a soft, almost inaudible voice.

"Damn you!" Albus replied, feeling more miserable and angry that he ever had in his life. "Avada Kedavra!"

"NOOO! Marvolo!"

Albus looked up to see a very young man, hardly twenty years old, pointing his wand at him, tears streaming down his pronounced cheeks.

"Murderer!"

"Tom…listen."

Albus hesitated. He usually had something to say, but this one was an exception. He was simply speechless. What could he tell the boy he had just orphaned for the second time? He looked down at Marvolo's lifeless body, into his eyes, which now seemed to be made of colorful glass.

He heard Tom's angry voice shout, "Avada…"

His life-preserving drive kicked in and he disapparated before the green light was shot…

"Are you still there?" the boy's quiet voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

He nodded and, noticing that the boy's eyes were shut, he added, "yes." They were both silent for some uneasy seconds before the boy talked again.

"Was it something I said?" Albus inhaled deeply.

"Does your father talk much about his grand father?"

"No. But he once said the man had been one of the greatest people of all times." The boy opened his eyes and looked at him "Why do you ask?"

Albus took a deep breath, as if gathering all his strength, before continuing in a quieter voice, determined to get out with it once and for all.

"I once had a friend, my very best friend, who betrayed me…betrayed us all. During the war against Grindelwald, he turned against us and joined him. He was one of the people who helped Grindelwald most to gain power, his second in command. His name was…"

Albus lingered.

"Marvolo Saulson," the boy said in a strange voice, an unreadable expression on his face.

There was a pause before Angel asked, "what happened to him?"

"He was…killed," Albus breathed softly.

In the tentative pause that followed, Angel peered at the elderly wizard. The pain in his eyes was what he had hoped to see in his father's… the regret, the desire to make it all better. The vulnerability of Dumbledore's pain made the Headmaster far more amiable to Angel, and quite oddly, for a moment he felt closer to the man than he ever thought he could. He therefore mustered the courage to ask in a low voice what he thought he was reading in the man's eyes.

"…By you?"

The old man seemed to flinch slightly, and took a lot of time to answer. And when he did answer, it was not with words. Dumbledore simply nodded, not looking at him. Angel inhaled sharply, which was a bad thing to do- it made him cough with a hacking sound. The Headmaster immediately was at his side, and gently propped him up. Angel's breathing relaxed. It seemed that Pomfrey had given the headmaster implicit instructions.

Dumbledore sat back, fully aware that it was his truthfulness that had triggered that response in the boy. He shut his eyes, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. For a while more, there was again an uneasy pause. Then, he took another deep breath. He had already made his decision; it was already acted upon. He would see it through. He would not make the mistakes of the past.

Albus placed the spectacles carefully back on his long nose and looked at the boy. There was an unreadable expression on his face. He didn't shut his eyes again; he looked straight into Angel's eyes as he continued.

"I was angry. It is hard to kill a human being, light or dark, and much more when he has been your best friend for half a century. I was angry with him for forcing me to kill him. I was angry with myself for not knowing him well enough after all those years. I felt there was no hope. We defeated Grindelwald. I killed him myself, as a revenge for my best friend's death, and felt absolutely no pity. I felt so ruthless that I still shudder at the thought of what I could have done at that time. But even then, I wasn't soothed. I was known as a hero, a great wizard…"

Angel coughed dryly. Albus picked up the water goblet on the bedside table and filled it with a wave of his wand. Angel hesitated for a long moment, looking into his eyes, before accepting the water.

"We were talking about acceptance," Angel said matter-of-factly, lying back on the bed.

Albus inhaled deeply and sat straighter on the uncomfortable chair, feeling the old joints resist. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and went on with the tale.

"Tom always thought he was a purely muggle born child. This is not the perfect position for some one who is in Slytherin. But then…due to some circumstances…he found out." He shut his eyes for a second, forcing himself to tell the truth. "I told him. I also told him who his mother…and grand father had been. I admit it was a mistake. Telling him the truth wasn't a mistake in itself but I didn't…I wasn't very near to him. I should have tried to build up some trust first. Besides," Albus sighed heavily, "I left him alone afterwards."

"What do you mean?"

"I told him and then left the decision to himself. I told him that he should choose his path. I…didn't pursue it much further. I felt that the right thing to do was to wait till he would come to me himself, which never happened."

"I can guess why," Angel said in a strange, quiet voice.

"Why?"

"He is…proud." The boy said after a gulp. Albus nodded.

"Very true. And I had already scratched his pride…ripped the innocence away from him. He never particularly liked me, as I was Head of Gryffindor at that time, and I admit I had treated him with…indifference on some occasions. After our talk, he simply hated me and never trusted me again. I tried to talk to him again after some time but he was completely closed.

"I don't blame Tom alone in this. If perhaps I was more persevering, if I had pressed him to talk to me instead of letting him choose whether or not to come to me…"

Dumbledore shut his eyes for a while, then sighed.

"I do not expect you to fully understand, but know that I do not denounce responsibility for not helping your father as I could perhaps have done. For that I am sorry. I promise you I will try my very best to make it up to you, impossible as it may sound at present."

He waited for a response from the boy but it didn't come. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He sipped some water before continuing.

"Then…he wrote Marvolo. I guess he asked him about his mother. I don't exactly know what was exchanged between the two, but I'm sure it had an immense effect on the way Tom chose in the end.

"Again I should have done something. I knew he was writing his grand father. I knew how persuasive Marvolo could be. But I had lost confidence in myself and unfortunately did not trust my instinct when I suspected what was going on with Tom. Even with the events of the Chamber of Secrets. I was the only one who knew who was Tom's grandfather. I was the only one who knew who was the heir of Slytherin; but still, I didn't act. I always told myself that there was no way to be sure…and by the time I did realise with certainty what was going on, he was already beyond my reach."

He couldn't stand it anymore; he broke the gaze and looked out of the window.

Angel was confused. He wasn't sure he could believe the headmaster.

'Perhaps he wants to conclude that it runs in the blood?'

But it was unlikely. Dumbledore wasn't his usual self. There was no twinkle in his eyes, nor was there the usual merry smile on his face. He looked…old. Angel felt that he was the only one who had ever seen the headmaster mask-less, except for Marvolo Saulson perhaps. And he had said nothing, not a single word, that humiliated or belittled him. Nothing but words of support or understanding had come from the Headmaster. There was a nameless…presence in the room's atmosphere that simply felt impossible to exist if the Headmaster was insincere. Angel could say it was the first time the old man was confessing this to anyone.

"It wasn't your fault," he said quietly, looking at his hands. The old man's gaze turned back to him. "It doesn't give him enough reason to be…what he is."

"You mean it doesn't give him enough reason to feel there is no hope in the world?"

He looked up at the old man to see the smile back on the face.

"Everyone makes mistakes Angel. Some light, some very grave. There is not a single adult in my staff that has not quite a bit of both categories. But our goal in life is to try and see our mistakes and not make them a second time. In the best case, to see ahead into our future and try not to make the mistake even once. You have this chance, Angel. Don't ruin your life because you keep knocking on a door that will never be opened."

Angel paused. He wasn't sure whether he had really understood everything that the headmaster had said. He had been more absorbed in the tale about his father's time in school. But now a disturbing question was forming in his head.

Had it all been an act to get this on him? To tell him these words? But it had seemed so…real.

'One would think you have seen enough not to trust anyone so naively again.'

It seemed that the old man had read his thought.

"Remember Angel, if somebody betrayed your trust, it doesn't mean everybody is untrustworthy," Dumbledore said sincerely. "This is one of the gravest mistakes many people tend to make, and pay for it far more dearly than they had bargained for."

"I will think about it," Angel said after a moment's hesitation, pondering the old man's words.

"I know you will." Dumbledore beamed. "I will always listen if you needed to talk."

Angel nodded once without looking at the old man. He beamed down at him again and turned to go.

"By the way, Angel." The headmaster turned back when he had reached the door. "Thank you."

Angel wasn't sure what was he being thanked for but smiled nonetheless.

To Be Continued…

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Reviews! Reviews! Reviews!

Shadowycat: Very true. As for sorting with his feelings, ask help from the wise old grandpa, I say. ;)

Natasha Drake: Thank you! *bows* Here's your update! As for not being able to wait what happens in the end…neither can I, my dear friend, neither can I! ;)

Rayvern: Thank you! Here's your update!

RobinoftheForest: Thanks! I didn't know this story has an standard *looks sheepish* It scares me, actually. Hope I can keep up to that. =)