Three Times Six, Chapter 7
By: myr_halcyon
Summary: Harry goes to Hogwarts. The author writes Dumbledore for all he's worth.
Author's Note: I apologize for any awkward paragraphs, turns of phrase, etc. Please let me know specifically if something doesn't work, because I am merely eager to get this posted and appease all you hungry demons. I will make any changes as they come to my attention. Thanks for your patience!
=====
"Don't do this, Tom."
The young man facing Albus Dumbledore was undaunted. "I'll do what I please, Albus, and I highly doubt you'll have any say in the matter at all." He slipped his hand into his robe. "Now, if you will kindly move aside, I shall be leaving."
Albus drew himself up. "Thomas, you are eighteen. Undoubtedly you know everything there is to know about everything -" the smallest twinkle sparkled in Albus' eye - "but Grindelwald is on the move and I hardly think it wise for anyone to be out and about in Europe these days."
Tom pulled his wand from the pocket inside his robe. "You are an old fool, Albus. I have nothing to fear from Grindelwald: indeed, I am greater than that pretender could ever hope. The blood of Slytherin himself runs in my veins, Albus, and I don't intend to sit around this castle and let you so-called Aurors destroy the entire world while you're trying to bring him down!" The wand was now pointed at Albus' head. "Step aside, old man, or I shall make you," said Tom in a voice that was most certainly not his own.
Shaking his head, Albus reached for his wand. "Believe me, Tom, this is for your own good..." But before his fingers found their purchase, Albus' ear twitched and he sprang aside, barely avoiding the white arc of light emanating from Tom's wand.
"Excellent reflexes, old man," laughed Tom in the surreal tone he'd used earlier. "But they will not save you now. You will be the first to fall, then Dippet, and then the rest of you deluded ancients. It is my time now, the time for my reign, and you can do nothing to stop it."
Tom's eyes were wild, but Albus merely shook his head and sighed. In a lightning-swift movement, his wand was in his hand, pointed at Tom. "Don't do this, Tom. You don't know what you're up against."
"Tom?" spat the young man. "How dare you sully my presence with that horrid name? No, I shall be known by a pseudonym that will strike fear into the hearts of those who hear it. No longer will I be called Tom Marvolo Riddle: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!"
As the halls rang with Tom's pronouncement, Albus' face became grave. Though the name was ridiculous and the ambitions ludicrous, there was an ominous aura around the teenager. He knew far too much for his years, a fact Albus wished he could have altered. But all the wishing in the world would not restore the innocence to this possessed being, this wild man. "Do not take me for some conjuror of cheap tricks," murmured Albus, moving the fingers of his left hand in a complicated dance he'd perfected years ago. His physical form seemed to swell to fill the entire hallway, and the power building behind the spell made even the sun through the window seem insignificant. "I do this only to protect you, Tom," he said, fixing his eyes on the insolent green ones staring up at him. A sudden flash of light filled the hall, and Tom disappeared.
Albus slowly shrank back to his normal, slightly hunched self, and shook his head. "You haunt my waking moments, do you, Grindelwald?" he muttered to himself. "Yet I see what you do. You turn my own students against me, and have been turning them since you arose. You may take their souls, but you will never break mine." He shook his head and turned the corner, moving out of sight.
Albus Dumbledore, hair whiter and longer, shook his head from the doorway where he'd watched the confrontation. "Why, Tom?" he asked the stretch of hallway in front of him.
"Why didn't you kill him then, Professor?"
Albus blinked, then smiled as he noticed the thin boy with messy jet-black hair and glasses standing behind him. "Ah, Harry, I see you've found me, once again lost in my thoughts. Come, let's go back to my office and talk." The two rose gently and popped out of Dumbledore's Pensieve into the familiar circular office.
"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, settling into the chair behind his desk, "what brings you back to Hogwarts so soon?"
"Professor!" Harry cried. "Haven't you heard? The Hogwarts Express was destroyed, nearly everyone is dead, and you ask me why I've come to see you?"
"Yes, I do," said Dumbledore calmly. "Quite frankly I would have expected you to spend a good deal more time with the Weasleys, or with Miss Granger, or to go back to your Aunt and Uncle."
Harry scoffed. "I can expect nothing from my relatives. They'll probably see it as a benefit for mankind that so many magical people were disposed of so conveniently -" his voice caught.
"Please, Harry, there's no need to get so upset all over again." Dumbledore reached into his desk and offered Harry a cup of some brown liquid. "Try this; it generally helps me feel better."
Harry sipped at the thick, warm liquid, taking the opportunity to wipe his eyes discreetly. Dumbledore seemed not to notice, but merely stared out of the window, humming cheerily. "Professor?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"How do you do it?"
Albus raised an eyebrow. "I do a great deal of things, Harry. Which one in particular did you have in mind?"
Harry took another sip from the cup. "How do you stay so...cheerful? I mean, everyone is dead, and you're humming as though you were out shopping for flowers." He jabbed at another offending tear. "What's your secret?" he whispered.
Albus sighed. Once again, he was face-to-face with a student who knew far too much. But this young man wasn't the product of an unhealthy curiosity, he was the victim of circumstance: a boy forced from almost the day he was born to live in a world intent on making his life miserable. "Harry, I have no secret." The young man in front of him looked up at the wrinkled face in surprise. "I feel much like you must," admitted Albus, rising and walking to the window. "I too had friends on that train, not as close as yours, admittedly, but there were particular flowers in that garden that had attracted my attention and friendship. Your Miss Weasley, for one."
Harry closed his eyes and looked away.
"But Harry, I've merely learned how to look at the world. During the time Grindelwald was terrorizing Europe, I lost many friends and most of my family. Yes, I was as alone as you must feel now. But I survived, Harry, and because I survived there was still hope. There was still hope for rebuilding, still hope for a new life for those wizards who also survived. I could train more wizards, I could rebuild Hogwarts, reorganize the Ministry so we could be prepared. So more people wouldn't have to die."
"You failed."
Albus looked back at the figure, now curled tightly in the chair on the other side of his desk. "No, Harry, I didn't. I knew that Tom would come back. I could have stopped him, but I was optimistic. I don't particularly enjoy dealing out death, because many of the people I knew who died deserved life. I couldn't give it to them, so who was I to decide which people deserved to die and which to live? I'm no deity, Harry." He smiled, crossing slowly to the crumpled boy in the chair. Placing a finger under Harry's chin, he lifted the green eyes to look into his own. "I did not fail, because you are here. Miss Granger is alive. Arthur and Molly are alive, as are five of their children and their grandchild. There are so many who are still here with us, Harry. Yes, we suffer losses, yes, we must grieve. But there is so much good in the world yet that I cannot help but be happy. That is all."
Harry blinked back tears, staring into the crystal blue eyes in front of his. "You know...about...Hermione?" he asked, slowly comprehending what exactly Dumbledore had said.
"Yes, Harry," smiled Dumbledore. "Mr. Fred Weasley stuck his head into my fireplace not five minutes before you arrived, informing me of the situation and also assuring me that both mother and child would be well kept in the Burrow."
"The Burrow?" Harry was confused. "But Molly - and Bill...you said Fred told you?"
Dumbledore laughed lightly. "Yes, he mentioned a falling out of sorts, but assured me that everything would go, what did he say? - corkingly."
Harry smiled through his tearstains. "I'm so glad. I just...I wish I could..."
Dumbledore shook his head. "I think it's best if you leave Miss Granger to her own devices. She will be well taken care of, and we have need of you here, Harry."
"You need me?" Harry frowned.
"Yes, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Hogwarts will be the base from which we will rid the world of the scourge that is Voldemort."
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A/N: Ooh, dramatic. I'd write more, but this seems a good place to stop. Once again, I must apologize for any awkwardness, but I've been hounded incessantly by Katie, mistress of redundancy, to updateupdateupdate and I figured I should appease her. Yes, persistance is the way to my heart. Go to hell. Please, give me constructive criticism, ideas for more plot, etc, because the better your reviews are, the more likely it is that I'll update. That's not a threat, that's just how it works.
Thank you so much for reading, more to follow...
-MH
Summary: Harry goes to Hogwarts. The author writes Dumbledore for all he's worth.
Author's Note: I apologize for any awkward paragraphs, turns of phrase, etc. Please let me know specifically if something doesn't work, because I am merely eager to get this posted and appease all you hungry demons. I will make any changes as they come to my attention. Thanks for your patience!
=====
"Don't do this, Tom."
The young man facing Albus Dumbledore was undaunted. "I'll do what I please, Albus, and I highly doubt you'll have any say in the matter at all." He slipped his hand into his robe. "Now, if you will kindly move aside, I shall be leaving."
Albus drew himself up. "Thomas, you are eighteen. Undoubtedly you know everything there is to know about everything -" the smallest twinkle sparkled in Albus' eye - "but Grindelwald is on the move and I hardly think it wise for anyone to be out and about in Europe these days."
Tom pulled his wand from the pocket inside his robe. "You are an old fool, Albus. I have nothing to fear from Grindelwald: indeed, I am greater than that pretender could ever hope. The blood of Slytherin himself runs in my veins, Albus, and I don't intend to sit around this castle and let you so-called Aurors destroy the entire world while you're trying to bring him down!" The wand was now pointed at Albus' head. "Step aside, old man, or I shall make you," said Tom in a voice that was most certainly not his own.
Shaking his head, Albus reached for his wand. "Believe me, Tom, this is for your own good..." But before his fingers found their purchase, Albus' ear twitched and he sprang aside, barely avoiding the white arc of light emanating from Tom's wand.
"Excellent reflexes, old man," laughed Tom in the surreal tone he'd used earlier. "But they will not save you now. You will be the first to fall, then Dippet, and then the rest of you deluded ancients. It is my time now, the time for my reign, and you can do nothing to stop it."
Tom's eyes were wild, but Albus merely shook his head and sighed. In a lightning-swift movement, his wand was in his hand, pointed at Tom. "Don't do this, Tom. You don't know what you're up against."
"Tom?" spat the young man. "How dare you sully my presence with that horrid name? No, I shall be known by a pseudonym that will strike fear into the hearts of those who hear it. No longer will I be called Tom Marvolo Riddle: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!"
As the halls rang with Tom's pronouncement, Albus' face became grave. Though the name was ridiculous and the ambitions ludicrous, there was an ominous aura around the teenager. He knew far too much for his years, a fact Albus wished he could have altered. But all the wishing in the world would not restore the innocence to this possessed being, this wild man. "Do not take me for some conjuror of cheap tricks," murmured Albus, moving the fingers of his left hand in a complicated dance he'd perfected years ago. His physical form seemed to swell to fill the entire hallway, and the power building behind the spell made even the sun through the window seem insignificant. "I do this only to protect you, Tom," he said, fixing his eyes on the insolent green ones staring up at him. A sudden flash of light filled the hall, and Tom disappeared.
Albus slowly shrank back to his normal, slightly hunched self, and shook his head. "You haunt my waking moments, do you, Grindelwald?" he muttered to himself. "Yet I see what you do. You turn my own students against me, and have been turning them since you arose. You may take their souls, but you will never break mine." He shook his head and turned the corner, moving out of sight.
Albus Dumbledore, hair whiter and longer, shook his head from the doorway where he'd watched the confrontation. "Why, Tom?" he asked the stretch of hallway in front of him.
"Why didn't you kill him then, Professor?"
Albus blinked, then smiled as he noticed the thin boy with messy jet-black hair and glasses standing behind him. "Ah, Harry, I see you've found me, once again lost in my thoughts. Come, let's go back to my office and talk." The two rose gently and popped out of Dumbledore's Pensieve into the familiar circular office.
"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, settling into the chair behind his desk, "what brings you back to Hogwarts so soon?"
"Professor!" Harry cried. "Haven't you heard? The Hogwarts Express was destroyed, nearly everyone is dead, and you ask me why I've come to see you?"
"Yes, I do," said Dumbledore calmly. "Quite frankly I would have expected you to spend a good deal more time with the Weasleys, or with Miss Granger, or to go back to your Aunt and Uncle."
Harry scoffed. "I can expect nothing from my relatives. They'll probably see it as a benefit for mankind that so many magical people were disposed of so conveniently -" his voice caught.
"Please, Harry, there's no need to get so upset all over again." Dumbledore reached into his desk and offered Harry a cup of some brown liquid. "Try this; it generally helps me feel better."
Harry sipped at the thick, warm liquid, taking the opportunity to wipe his eyes discreetly. Dumbledore seemed not to notice, but merely stared out of the window, humming cheerily. "Professor?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"How do you do it?"
Albus raised an eyebrow. "I do a great deal of things, Harry. Which one in particular did you have in mind?"
Harry took another sip from the cup. "How do you stay so...cheerful? I mean, everyone is dead, and you're humming as though you were out shopping for flowers." He jabbed at another offending tear. "What's your secret?" he whispered.
Albus sighed. Once again, he was face-to-face with a student who knew far too much. But this young man wasn't the product of an unhealthy curiosity, he was the victim of circumstance: a boy forced from almost the day he was born to live in a world intent on making his life miserable. "Harry, I have no secret." The young man in front of him looked up at the wrinkled face in surprise. "I feel much like you must," admitted Albus, rising and walking to the window. "I too had friends on that train, not as close as yours, admittedly, but there were particular flowers in that garden that had attracted my attention and friendship. Your Miss Weasley, for one."
Harry closed his eyes and looked away.
"But Harry, I've merely learned how to look at the world. During the time Grindelwald was terrorizing Europe, I lost many friends and most of my family. Yes, I was as alone as you must feel now. But I survived, Harry, and because I survived there was still hope. There was still hope for rebuilding, still hope for a new life for those wizards who also survived. I could train more wizards, I could rebuild Hogwarts, reorganize the Ministry so we could be prepared. So more people wouldn't have to die."
"You failed."
Albus looked back at the figure, now curled tightly in the chair on the other side of his desk. "No, Harry, I didn't. I knew that Tom would come back. I could have stopped him, but I was optimistic. I don't particularly enjoy dealing out death, because many of the people I knew who died deserved life. I couldn't give it to them, so who was I to decide which people deserved to die and which to live? I'm no deity, Harry." He smiled, crossing slowly to the crumpled boy in the chair. Placing a finger under Harry's chin, he lifted the green eyes to look into his own. "I did not fail, because you are here. Miss Granger is alive. Arthur and Molly are alive, as are five of their children and their grandchild. There are so many who are still here with us, Harry. Yes, we suffer losses, yes, we must grieve. But there is so much good in the world yet that I cannot help but be happy. That is all."
Harry blinked back tears, staring into the crystal blue eyes in front of his. "You know...about...Hermione?" he asked, slowly comprehending what exactly Dumbledore had said.
"Yes, Harry," smiled Dumbledore. "Mr. Fred Weasley stuck his head into my fireplace not five minutes before you arrived, informing me of the situation and also assuring me that both mother and child would be well kept in the Burrow."
"The Burrow?" Harry was confused. "But Molly - and Bill...you said Fred told you?"
Dumbledore laughed lightly. "Yes, he mentioned a falling out of sorts, but assured me that everything would go, what did he say? - corkingly."
Harry smiled through his tearstains. "I'm so glad. I just...I wish I could..."
Dumbledore shook his head. "I think it's best if you leave Miss Granger to her own devices. She will be well taken care of, and we have need of you here, Harry."
"You need me?" Harry frowned.
"Yes, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Hogwarts will be the base from which we will rid the world of the scourge that is Voldemort."
=====
A/N: Ooh, dramatic. I'd write more, but this seems a good place to stop. Once again, I must apologize for any awkwardness, but I've been hounded incessantly by Katie, mistress of redundancy, to updateupdateupdate and I figured I should appease her. Yes, persistance is the way to my heart. Go to hell. Please, give me constructive criticism, ideas for more plot, etc, because the better your reviews are, the more likely it is that I'll update. That's not a threat, that's just how it works.
Thank you so much for reading, more to follow...
-MH