Title: Selective Memory
Author: Unanon
Rating: G
~~~~~
It began early that year with small things. He wouldn't be able to recall where he'd left his favorite quill; Fawkes' water dish would go unchanged for days. Guilt trembled within the headmaster's chest when he finally would notice.
He concealed it from the staff for a time, muttering their names beneath his breath on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast in order to avoid an embarrassing mistake. He knew that Minerva suspected, but it wasn't until he forgot the password to his own office that they discussed the problem.
Albus Dumbledore was simply beginning to show his age.
They made tiny adjustments to the administrative hierarchy. Minerva took over a great deal of his more clandestine responsibilities, delegating her own down to Snape. He held himself in reserve a bit, restricting his public activities to only the most pressing appearances. The illusion had to be perfect. It would never do if the enemy discovered that the great wizard Dumbledore, destroyer of Grindelwald, was slowly losing his memory.
In the quieter moments when he allowed himself to ponder his condition, Albus was amused by it. There were, after all, many things that simply weren't remembering. He found it amazing, really, how he could recall minor childhood altercations with Aberforth, but he often couldn't remember what he'd eaten for breakfast that morning.
"The mind is a silly thing." He said to Minerva one night as they drank port before the fire in his office. "One never knows to what it will choose to cling."
He settled into a comfort zone; memory of the incidental was of little use, really. His powers didn't diminish one bit because of it; spells were instinctive and felt natural, drawing from portions of his mind unaffected by the vagaries of old age and forgetfulness. His self-confidence, not diminished yet dented, returned, and he felt quite capable of the task before him.
He was quite capable of finally telling Harry the truth.
It was only after Harry left his office, grieving and broken, that Albus experienced a moment of doubt. He felt sure he had remembered to tell Harry everything but, if not, what had his mind chosen to forget?
~fin~
It began early that year with small things. He wouldn't be able to recall where he'd left his favorite quill; Fawkes' water dish would go unchanged for days. Guilt trembled within the headmaster's chest when he finally would notice.
He concealed it from the staff for a time, muttering their names beneath his breath on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast in order to avoid an embarrassing mistake. He knew that Minerva suspected, but it wasn't until he forgot the password to his own office that they discussed the problem.
Albus Dumbledore was simply beginning to show his age.
They made tiny adjustments to the administrative hierarchy. Minerva took over a great deal of his more clandestine responsibilities, delegating her own down to Snape. He held himself in reserve a bit, restricting his public activities to only the most pressing appearances. The illusion had to be perfect. It would never do if the enemy discovered that the great wizard Dumbledore, destroyer of Grindelwald, was slowly losing his memory.
In the quieter moments when he allowed himself to ponder his condition, Albus was amused by it. There were, after all, many things that simply weren't remembering. He found it amazing, really, how he could recall minor childhood altercations with Aberforth, but he often couldn't remember what he'd eaten for breakfast that morning.
"The mind is a silly thing." He said to Minerva one night as they drank port before the fire in his office. "One never knows to what it will choose to cling."
He settled into a comfort zone; memory of the incidental was of little use, really. His powers didn't diminish one bit because of it; spells were instinctive and felt natural, drawing from portions of his mind unaffected by the vagaries of old age and forgetfulness. His self-confidence, not diminished yet dented, returned, and he felt quite capable of the task before him.
He was quite capable of finally telling Harry the truth.
It was only after Harry left his office, grieving and broken, that Albus experienced a moment of doubt. He felt sure he had remembered to tell Harry everything but, if not, what had his mind chosen to forget?
~fin~