A Matter of Time

by Dementis Scriptor

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Dealing with loss is never easy, especially when half the world sees you as a savior, half as a Dark Lord in the making, and half as the man who took away their chance at world domination. Yes, that made three halves. Go figure.

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Harry Potter, and so I place sarcastic disclaimers such as this one before each and every one of my chaptersin the hope that, should JKR and/or her lawyers ever read this, they will decide not to sue me.

Chapter Four: Déjà vu

"It's déjà vu all over again." – Yogi Berra

It all seemed so familiar.

Small silver instruments whirred and sputtered on a table, some emitting puffs of smoke or flashes of light at irregular intervals. Hundreds of books, some of which couldn't be found anywhere else in the world, sat neatly on carved wooden shelves. A glittering perch stood to one side, occupied by a flaming crimson bird the size of a swan. And behind a claw-footed desk, polished to a point that could only be attained by an overzealous house-elf, sat an old man with piercing blue eyes, a crooked nose, and snow white hair long enough to join his equally white beard as it was tucked into his belt.

It all seemed so familiar…

But it wasn't.

"Look, Mr. Esare-"

"Please," Harry interrupted. "Call me Evan." Dumbledore closed his eyes just long enough to collect himself while still being short enough to appear as a prolonged blink.

"Very well…Evan," said Dumbledore, admirably concealing most of the annoyance Harry knew he must be feeling. "As I was saying, I really don't think-"

"Are you hungry?" Harry broke in smoothly, "Because I could really go for some scones about now."

"Scones…?" asked Dumbledore blankly.

"Scones," said Harry. "Definitely scones. And perhaps some tea…"

Dumbledore blinked. He was opening his mouth to respond, an expression of forced calm on his face, when -

Pop!

"Are sirs in need of something?" inquired an oddly high-pitched voice. It was, of course, a house-elf. The headmaster let out a resigned sigh.

"Ah! Yes, I could go for some scones, if it isn't too much trouble," said Harry. The house-elf looked delighted. Dumbledore looked like someone had just eaten his last lemon drop.

"Oh, no sir. 'Tis no trouble for Allie. Is there anything else?" the house-elf, Allie, asked.

"Hmm…how about some tea? Earl Grey, if you have it," Harry replied, fully aware that Dumbledore was becoming impatient, despite his attempts to hide it.

"Right away, sir," said Allie, disappearing with another Pop!

"Wonderful creatures, house-elves," said Harry. "It's a shame so many people take them for granted. They may be bound to serve, but that's no reason to treat them like dirt…" he trailed off.

Dumbledore just stared at him with a blank expression, as though he was not sure what to make of him. Harry figured it probably wasn't that far from the truth. He was willing to bet that it had been a very long time since anyone had treated Dumbledore as anything other than a hero of almost mythic proportions.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore slowly. "I wonder, though, why –"

Whatever Dumbledore was going to say was lost as Allie popped back into the office, carrying a silver tray that looked far too large for her. She managed without incident, however, placing the tray on the desk with practiced ease. It looked to Harry as though she had brought half the bakery: the requested scones were there, of course, along with a dozen or so assorted muffins, a selection of biscuits, half a dozen croissants, and a wide variety of pastries. A matching silver tea set was set down beside it, steam rising steadily from the spout. To Harry, who had been living almost entirely off of transfigured foliage and conjured foodstuffs, this was quite possibly the most wonderful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

"Here you are, Sir," said Allie. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, Allie," said Harry, smiling kindly at the little elf. "Thank you very much." Allie blushed, but grinned wider than Harry would have thought possible.

"If you need anything else, Sir – anything at all – you've only to ask," the elf said, seemingly in a state of euphoria.

"I appreciate it, Allie," said Harry. Allie beamed once more before departing the office in her customary manner.

Harry had unabashedly taken a scone from the tray, buttered it, eaten it, and was starting on a second by the time Dumbledore's mind caught on to the fact that Harry had, in under a minute, established a stronger relationship with the house-elves than most people had after years of living in the castle.

"Please, feel free to join me," said Harry, motioning towards the tray with a croissant he had just started on. "I daresay that Allie will be most disappointed if there is anything left over, and I certainly can't eat all of this…"

It really wasn't fair on Dumbledore, Harry reflected, watching the old man try to make sense out of his behavior. Most people had very little actual contact with the man, and so never learned his mannerisms well enough to read him. But he, Harry, knew Albus Dumbledore almost as well as Albus Dumbledore knew him. The only problem was that, at current, Albus Dumbledore did not know him, and would not for another thirty or so years. That gave Harry the advantage of being able to read the headmaster's reactions with an ease that only came from years of experience – years of experience that the headmaster did not yet have concerning him. It wasn't fair on Dumbledore…but it was bloody amusing to Harry.

Rather than attempt conversation, Dumbledore opted to silently observe him. He didn't do it outright, of course, instead carefully choosing a pastry from the tray and making a show of thoroughly enjoying it. Only someone who knew what to look for would have noticed how little the headmaster blinked, or how he kept his eyes focused in such a way as to keep Harry in his peripheral vision at all times. To most, the headmaster would have appeared to be unerringly polite, but Harry recognized the act for what it was: an attempt to gain some insight into his character, and perhaps catch him in an unguarded moment. He had seen the headmaster use similar tactics when dealing with everyone from Cornelius Fudge to Lucius Malfoy, and while he was a bit disgruntled to find himself included in that group, Harry thought it rather flattering that Dumbledore considered him worthy of such surveillance.

The day had been going rather well, all things considered. After the usual pleasantries had been exchanged in the Great Hall, the headmaster suggested that they move the impending discussion up to his office. It wasn't an unreasonable request, and Harry was well aware that that change in venue could very well make things easier for him. The Headmaster's office was where Dumbledore felt he had the most control over a situation, and where many people would have been the most intimidated. Luckily for Harry, it was the same office he had spent countless hours in over the years, and he felt almost as comfortable there as Dumbledore himself did. But while he may have been happy with the surroundings, he was far less at ease with the situation.

It hadn't been an easy task convincing Dumbledore to hear him out. The man had been nice enough about it, of course, but after Harry had confessed his lack of experience as a teacher – indeed, his lack of experience doing anything, really – the headmaster seemed much less inclined to continue the discussion. Harry almost smiled at the thought of just how lax the old man's standards would become by the time he first came to Hogwarts.

The school didn't have any kind of formal tests for aspiring professors, and as such Harry's evaluation mostly consisted of a very long conversation with Dumbledore about everything from entry-level counter-curses to some of the most advanced, multifaceted shielding charms known to wizard kind. Harry suspected he had earned some points with the headmaster by not only knowing of these charms, but actually being able to perform them. Then there was the matter of his O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores, which he didn't have for the simple reason that he would not take those exams for some thirty years. He could have tried to forge some scores, but unless he broke into the Wizarding Examinations Authority archives, located within the Ministry building, and created a whole new file for himself, it would be ridiculously easy for Dumbledore to find out that his so-called scores were a load of dung. Regardless, Dumbledore had the authority to hire new faculty at his discretion, even if he or she didn't have the formal qualifications. Harry was quite sure that he had proven himself more than competent in the field, yet something was holding Dumbledore back. It took Harry a moment to realize that it wasn't his skills that the headmaster doubted (at least, it wasn't anymore). No, the explanation was far simpler than that: Dumbledore didn't trust him.

In retrospect, this fact should have been fairly obvious to Harry. Indeed, he had expected there to be at least some mistrust on the headmaster's part. Dumbledore wasn't a stupid man, and while the rest of the Wizarding World may have been basking in their ignorance, Dumbledore would have noticed the subtle signs pointing to a rising darkness. Harry had not, however, expected those signs to be either numerous or troubling enough at this point in time to put the headmaster on his guard concerning new faculty members. The fact that his résumé was blank and nobody had ever heard of him was something of a sticking point as well. Luckily for Harry, though, Dumbledore asked few questions about his past, seemingly far more concerned with whether or not he posed a threat in the present.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Harry reminded himself that, logically, he already knew that Dumbledore would end up hiring him, since, logically, if he were not hired, he would never have come back to apply for the job in the first place, and, logically, the Universe would already be trapped in an ever repeating sequence of events from which it had no hope of ever emerging.

Logically, Harry wished he had dropped by the Three Broomsticks for a drink before rushing off to meet Dumbledore.

The headmaster was still quietly observing him, though Harry suspected that the old man knew that he was being observed right back. In the months preceding Voldemort's defeat, such tactics had become second nature for Harry: observing reactions, deducing thoughts from subtle body language…it was really amazing how much information people gave away without even realizing they were doing it.

This mutual observation continued until at last the tray was empty, and all that remained of the tea now sat in a pair of blue-patterned china cups not unlike those Harry remembered from Sibyll Trelawney's divination classes.

Speaking of divination…

"I already know what you're going to say," Harry said, having judged that the moment had come to…up the ante, so to speak.

"Oh?" said Dumbledore, acting every bit the clueless old man. Only a nearly imperceptible tensing of the muscles around his eyes gave away the fact that he knew the time for skirting the issue had passed.

"Yes indeed. Let's see… 'While I'm sure you would perform admirably, Mr. Esare, I'm afraid I can't hire someone without any formal qualifications in either education or Defense. I'll keep you in mind, however, should a suitable position become available.' Am I right?"

Harry already knew that he was. In fact, given how well he knew the man sitting across from him, he was willing to bet he got the wording nearly exact. He was proven right when Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly, despite the calm smile he still wore. In any event, Harry didn't wait for a reply before he spoke again.

"But it isn't my qualifications you are concerned about, is it?" Though he phrased it as a question, it was clearly anything but. Of their own volition, his eyes moved to the bare patch of wall that would one day become home to Gryffindor's sword. He remembered the events that led to his recovery of the sword. As strange as it sounded, his life had been far less complicated when he was battling for his life against a basilisk down in the Chamber of Secrets. Back then his only worry was staying alive from one moment to the next, and the rest of the world was largely uninvolved. Now, however, nothing was so simple.

"While most of the Wizarding World has been too wrapped up in their narcissism to notice much of anything, you have seen the warning signs. You've heard whispers of a coming darkness…seen the shadows gathering on the horizon. And you, Albus Dumbledore, fear that I am somehow involved."

The smile was gone from the headmaster's face when Harry looked back, replaced with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. Meeting Dumbledore's sharp gaze with one of equal intensity, Harry continued.

"Don't look so surprised. I daresay that I would have been disappointed if you weren't suspicious. I certainly wouldn't trust me if I were in your place." Harry paused to collect his thoughts, allowing Dumbledore time to do the same.

"If it makes you feel any better, I can tell you that I am not involved. At least," he added after a moment, "not yet."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, clearly inviting Harry to explain further. Harry decided to humor the old man.

"There is a new Dark Lord rising. Precious few people are aware of it, and most of those are working with him. The Ministry remains unaware, and is content to ignore any signs of anything that may disrupt their idealized view of the Wizarding World. By the time this new Dark Lord reveals himself, his advantage will be so great that nothing short of an all out war will be able to stop him…and you know as well as I do that Britain's magical community is neither willing nor able to deal with such a war."

Dumbledore remained silent, though all trace of the carefree man he had met earlier had long since vanished. When it appeared that he would not voice a reply, Harry decided to force the issue.

"You know I speak the truth."

Dumbledore remained as still as if he had been carved from marble. Then, with excruciating slowness, as though acknowledging it would somehow make it true, he nodded his head. For a long moment, neither man spoke, each rather reluctant to break the silence that had descended upon the office. At last, it was Dumbledore who made the first attempt.

"Why are you here, Evan Esare?" asked Dumbledore softly. "You obviously pay quite a bit more attention to the world than the average wizard…but what are your motives? We all have our reasons for doing what we do…what are yours?"

Harry paused, and thought about his answer. Honestly, he was there because he didn't want to bugger up the timeline. Anything else was a secondary concern. But he couldn't very well tell Dumbledore that, so he had to go with the next best thing: a true fallacy. A reason that, while being perfectly sensible and quite true, was not the real one.

"I am here because I think I have something to offer this school," he said. "No tricks, no lies, no ulterior motives. Think about it, Headmaster. Think long and hard before you make your decision. I could be a very valuable ally."

"And if I refuse your offer?" asked Dumbledore. "Do you then become a very dangerous enemy?" From anybody else, it would have sounded like an accusation. To anyone else, it would have been taken as an insult. But between the two men in the office, it was simply a question that needed to be asked…and needed to be answered.

"You know, it's been a while since anyone's had reason to doubt me," Harry said softly. "I'd almost forgotten what it was like…"

That was true enough. To Harry, it had been almost a full year since he had been accused of mental instability, gross incompetence, or being a wannabe Dark Lord. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that he had quit reading the Daily Prophet at around that same time…

"No matter, though. You pose a valid question, though it's not one I anticipated. I had hoped we'd be above such a simplistic view of the world, where there exists only Us and Them…" he paused, realizing that he was getting off track. Albus Dumbledore was probably the last person who needed to hear such a lecture.

"Sorry, got a bit off topic. In answer to your question: If you deign my services too…venturesome for your tastes, I will leave. I will disappear, quite probably forever. It is not likely that you would ever hear of me again," Harry said, pausing to lock his eyes on Dumbledore's. His next words were a gamble, he knew, but they had to be said.

"But you know as well as I do what a new Dark Lord could do to this world. Wizards have grown complacent in the years since Grindelwald fell. The Ministry is weak; the Aurors ill prepared for battle. I can count the number of fully qualified Hit Wizards on one hand," Harry said cryptically. "Whether we like it or not, the outcome of this war will be largely in the hands of the students who will very shortly reside within these walls. You wanted to know why I was here?"

It was a rhetorical question, and Dumbledore made no attempt to answer it.

"There's your answer. If, under my tutelage, even one student learns enough to defend himself when he otherwise would not have been able to, then I would consider my time here well spent. I can't save them all…but it is my hope that maybe, just maybe, I can teach them enough to save themselves."

Throughout his tirade, Harry had not removed his eyes from Dumbledore's, and he could see how deeply Dumbledore was affected by the thought of his students in danger. He had struck a nerve, as he knew he would. It remained to be seen whether it was for good or ill.

The silence continued for so long that Harry was almost sure he had gone too far. He had the fleeting vision of a world caught in paradox, where every action led right back to itself. It would be worse than if he had altered the past, since it wasn't only the future he knew which would be in danger, but any future at all. In knowing about his trip into the past before he had made it, he must have done something that lost him the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, which, in turn, would lead to his not knowing about the trip before hand and getting the job, which would then lead to his knowing about the trip and not getting the job, which would again lead to his not knowing and getting the job, and the Universe itself would become trapped in this never-ending loop, and nobody could do anything to change it, since no one would even know it was happening, and –

"I had hoped that I was wrong," said Dumbledore quietly, abruptly pulling Harry away from his dark musings. "That I had misinterpreted…something – anything. That I was seeing things that weren't there. I almost had myself convinced that I was just becoming paranoid in my old age." Here, he sighed deeply. "It was a fool's hope. For a quarter of a century we've had peace. A long time…but not long enough."

Harry closed his eyes, suddenly having a very good idea of how the Headmaster felt, both in this time period and the one he grew up in, with the knowledge of what was to come, and the knowledge that he could do nothing to stop it.

"Not long enough," he agreed tiredly. "Never long enough…"

Dumbledore sighed again, and gave Harry a sad look. "You speak from experience," he said softly. "Experience you should not have at your age."

Harry paused for a moment, and then shook his head, though it was not in denial. Years ago, such a comment would have grated on his nerves. Years ago it would have been cause for much resentment. Years ago…but not anymore. Not since he had returned to Hogwarts to find first- and second-year students, looking as grim-faced as any Auror, moving through the halls in packs, as though afraid they might be picked off one by one should they venture off alone. Not since he had stared into the crazed eyes of a classmate whose thirst for revenge had driven him to meddle in magic that was so far beyond his ability that it ultimately shattered his mind. Not since he had seen a boy, no older than ten, stab himself through the heart after being forced to do the same to his family under Imperious.

Not since his best friends had been killed, not out of malice or dislike, but as a show of power.

No, if it were up to him, such experience would never be had – by anybody.

"I have known many people," said Harry, and he was surprised by just how old his voice sounded at that moment, "of many ages. You've doubtless known many more. Should anyone ever have such experience?"

Another pause, longer this time.

"Touché," said the headmaster quietly.

"I've found," said Harry after a moment of silence, "that the world seldom cares whether or not you are old enough for anything."

Again the silence descended, but this time it was more contemplative than tense. For the first time since arriving in 1970, he found himself beginning to relax. It seemed, just for a moment, as though things might work out after all.

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore said abruptly, the somber atmosphere seeming to vanish in an instant, "that I can't just give you the job." He sounded somewhat apologetic, though Harry thought he detected an almost mocking undertone.

"Oh?"

"Oh my, no. You see, there are regulations that won't permit that, given your lack of experience."

Harry blinked. He began to open his mouth, but didn't get the chance.

"However, there is precedent for allowing you to teach on a probationary basis. You would be subject to monthly performance reviews by either myself or my Deputy – though I daresay that if you can teach half as well as you can argue a point, that shouldn't be a problem," said Dumbledore, a bit of a twinkle reappearing in his eyes.

Harry found himself comforted – and slightly taken aback – by the familiar mannerisms of the man who was now quite obviously the same Dumbledore he knew. He was overcome by this sudden sense of familiarity, and couldn't resist quipping back.

"Well, Headmaster, I daresay that if you can evaluate me in a classroom half as thoroughly as you can in your office, that shouldn't be a problem."

Dumbledore looked so surprised at this that he nearly fell out of his chair. A moment later he let out a loud chuckle, the familiar twinkling of his eyes returning full force.

"Was I that obvious?" he asked through his laughter.

"Nah," said Harry, the ghost of a smile playing across his face, "I'm just that good."

The headmaster laughed even louder at this, and Harry, as he had many times before, began to wonder about the old man's mental health. It hadn't been that funny…

"Mr. Esare," the headmaster said, smiling in a manner that was frankly unnerving, "Welcome to Hogwarts."

A/N: Yes, it's me again, back from the dead and posting a new chapter before the release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I have a nasty feeling that my plot will be obsolete come Saturday, and I wanted to get at least one more chapter out before then. As I've said in my profile, the fate of my current stories has yet to be decided. It all depends on how the new book plays out. I may continue to write them even if HBP tears my ideas to shreds, or I may be inspired to start something completely new after reading JKR's latest masterpiece. At this point, I honestly don't know. We'll just have to wait and see.

I'd like to thank Silverscale, Mars-Alfgonzo, antares520, RC, Larna Mandrea, Mirabelle P, Boo Bear the Small, Kara Adar, and kirallie for reviewing the last chapter.

-D.S.