Disclaimer: The characters, place names and all other things recognisable from Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Only the plot is mine. Song titles and lyrics used in this story are from The Offspring and are the property of Dexter Holland and his band. I don't own them, either.
Summary: In which Professor Dumbledore contemplates, Severus Snape makes a joke and Harry Potter has a visitation.
Race Against Myself
"Hello Fawkes." Professor Dumbledore turned his head to observe his phoenix, and long time companion, who had landed on his shoulder.
Fawkes chirped inquisitively.
"I was just watching the students leave. They must be so pleased to be going home." Outside the tower's circular window storm clouds were gathering, throwing shadow over the black-clad figures below. Dumbledore stepped away from the window and swept his hand over the large pillar candle on his desk, illuminating the area.
"How pleasant to still have one's flame glowing brightly, especially at Christmas." He sighed, picking up the Daily Prophet. "Everyone seems to have decided mine has burnt out. The truth is Fawkes, I'm not far from agreeing. It must be nice to be forever living without fear of your light going out, Fawkes?"
The phoenix gave a low chirp.
"Well, you always were contrary. You will at least admit, I hope, that things are not going so well for me. Here, listen to this: 'Despite near-constant pressure from prominent and well respected members of the magical community, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts school, persists in supporting the traditional curriculum. The preferred, reformist lesson-plans, designed by former Minister for Education, Gregory Nott, has already been successfully used in smaller schools in the London and Cardiff areas.' Then it goes on to a load of rubbish about Lucius Malfoy trying to reinstate government when we all know he's the reason it was torn down."
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "It's worse than it was, Fawkes. Voldemort has never been this close to Hogwarts before, and he's certainly never openly tried a take over. All those with the sense to see a threat are fleeing for Ireland, and I can't say I blame them. The media controls all, it would appear. After all these years of fighting and death, I'm further back than when I started. I think we're losing the race." He looked closely at the phoenix. "I am an old man now. I cannot do this for much longer."
Muffled shrieks of laughter brought his attention back to the window. The clouds had broken and snow fell thick and fast. It settled on the last two figures beneath his window. Two men stood close together, both with dark hair and pale skin, watching the thestral-pulled carriages depart. As he watched, the taller man bent to speak in the other's ear. He laughed at the shared joke and, in laughing, revealed himself to be Harry.
"There is nothing left for me, Fawkes. But I may make certain that things are different for those I love."
---
"Bye, Professor Potter!" screamed a group of third year girls, leaning out of their carriage window. He raised his arm in farewell, and they retreated inside giggling.
Harry rolled his eyes, Snape silently smirking beside him. "Thank goodness for that, I thought we'd never get them all loaded in. Now Christmas can begin properly."
"Are you sure famous Harry Potter won't miss his adoring throng?"
The young Professor had to look up at the other man's face. It was always hard to tell whether or not he was joking. No, joking was the wrong word. Perhaps, to tell whether or not he was really angry or speaking with disdain would be more suitable.
On this occasion there was a very slight curve to the lips and, incidentally, snowflakes melting into his hair. "Let's see – staff piss up versus teenagers faking obsessions with Grindylows for attention. Which would you choose?"
The older man's lips twitched into a small smile. "I hope you're not looking forward to your first Hogwarts staff party too much."
Harry had missed the last three Christmases at Hogwarts, favouring a festive time at the Weasleys'. This year, however, after the tragic death-in-combat of Arthur Weasley and the move of the rest of the family to Hogsmead, Harry thought everyone would be more comfortable if he stayed at the castle.
"I'm quite looking forward to it, actually. Why? They can't be all that bad."
"They tend to fall into two categories: the mind-numbingly dull or the cringe-worthy. It all depends on how much alcohol Dumbledore can get down everyone's throats, and I have reason to believe this year he's going to be at his most persuassive."
No matter how Snape tried, Harry was determined he would not give in. He would enjoy Christmas at Hogwarts while he still could. "Why should you dislike it so much? Surely you've never been effected by Professor Dumbledore's efforts."
"Only indirectly, I'm relieved to say. Although, I have seen horrors would only disturb your nightmares, Potter. It takes a real man with a strong stomach," he leaned close to Harry's ear and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper, "To witness Minerva MacGonagall merrily losing a game of strip charades!"
Harry burst into laughter, looking up into Snape's poker face in disbelief. "If only you were more of a practical joker, I could believe it never happened. But I know too much about our colleague's love of the good scotch stuff! How do you manage to work with her every day?"
"The same way I got through that night. I look into the eyes, and no where else."
The young man smiled as they turned to go back into the castle. "Well, it's always best to look on the bright side. At least my Christmas will be a lively one. Perhaps this year the bad luck will fall on someone who looks better in their birthday suit."
Harry blushed as soon as the innocently meant words had left his mouth. He was reminded of Hermione's implications, and could only hope that the two most intelligent people he knew didn't follow the same patterns of logic.
Severus' look was unreadable. "Anyone would think you were keen to climb back onto the broomstick."
"That was Hermione's advice, which I'm feeling free to ignore. I think I'm ready to put men on hold for a while, concentrate on-"
"On more important things. Yes, I do know." They stopped at the staircase to the dungeons. Harry could see Snape was considering his words carefully, and when he spoke it was in a measured tone. "Never make the mistake of considering yourself unimportant, Potter. Good day."
Harry watched the tall figure retreat to his dark dungeons, and shortly after slipped off to the comfort of his own quarters.
---
Something was pressing against Harry's darkness, disturbing his oblivion. His guard was up and dream shields he had been taught to create in Occlumency lessons were quickly and strategically placed to keep out the unwanted.
But it was only a very soft voice, after all. So Harry let it in.
"Harry," it coaxed. "Harry, it's me. Don't shut me out. I need to talk to you." His own green almond-shaped eyes smiled at him as he lowered his defenses slightly, recognising the voice. "I have something important to tell you, Harry." Around the eyes grew a fair-skinned face that was painfully familiar.
"Mum?" Harry mumbled in his sleep, squinting to better see her beautiful face.
"Don't be scared, Harry. I've come to help you, to warn you." Even as Harry watched, she grew before his eyes into the woman who waved at him from photographs he treasured. "You're not safe, Harry."
Words stuck in his throat. He had thought so many times about moments like this, about what he would say if he met his parents in heaven, what he would tell them about his life. Met with the actuality, all his imagined conversations melted away, and all he felt was a longing for it to just be real. "Mum?" he asked softly, as though speaking loudly we destroy her again. "Is Dad with you?"
"I'm hear to keep you safe, Harry. Please listen to me, it's very important. I don't want you to suffer my end."
Harry frowned. "Your end … Mum, you shouldn't be here – how?"
"There are ways, Harry. There is always a way. I can't stay long. Please, just watch what I have to show you – and take heed."
His mother faded away slightly, and Harry felt a sudden panic that she would leave him. But no. He could still see her, but it was as though her image was a stained glass window, and he could see other, more vivid pictures through her. The red of her hair flickered and shimmered into flames. Then, through the flames, Harry could see the outline of a wooden hut, burning. Sound joined the images, and screaming filled the dark.
"What about the children?" The clear voice came from behind a ghostly mask.
"Oh. Did we not leave them in the hut?" a darkly familiar high-pitched voice replied. "Well, they are no better than rats. Let them be drowned in the Thames with the rest of the vermin." There was a pause, and Harry wished he could see clearly what was happening. "You hesitate, Black? I am disappointed. Your brothers-in-law are so promising. Very well, then, you shall drown with them. If you wouldn't mind, Crabbe?"
Through all this nonchalant discourse the screaming had continued. Now there was a crash as the building's roof collapsed. After that only the burning wood screamed – the rest was deadly silent.
"Two children and three adults died in that single raid. There were two other raids that night, and they used to happen every night. The people who died were Dumbledore's kin, his cousins – they were extremely powerful. He killed all Dumbledore's family before moving on to us. What can you do, Harry, when he turns his eye on you?"
Her voice began to grow thinner, her image had disappeared completely. "Mum? Don't go yet."
"I can't stay. Just remember – find a way to get out before it's too late.
"GO!"
This last shout awoke Harry with a jolt. He sat up and found himself in his bed. The winter sun, just rising over the lake, shone through his window and onto the photograph on his bedside table of his parents. His mother frowned at him, looking worried.
"Don't worry, Mum. It's going to be OK."
But for the first time in his life, Harry was uncertain that everything would be OK.
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