Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

The Misplaced Potter

Chapter 20

In which much is resolved

"Thank you for coming" Dumbledore said as Henry emerged from the stairwell into the office.

"Who am I to turn down a summons from the headmaster of the school," the boy joked as he took the extended hand of the professor.

Sunshine poured through a skylight as Henry walked into the room. His eyes drank in the sights. Hundreds of books, dozens of portraits, and strange devices that whirled and clicked without giving Henry any clue as to their actual purpose filled the spacious, multistoried office. A large phoenix eyed him from its perch across the room. The sense of wonder that Henry had felt in Diagon Alley came flooding back to him. He could almost feel the intense crackle of concentrated magic.

"We have much to discuss today," Dumbledore said escorting Henry to a couch where Professor McGonagall was sitting. "It is important that you listen closely and ask any question of me that you have."

"Yes, sir," Henry responded politely as he sat down. "Good Morning, ma'am."

Professor McGonagall poured a mug of tea. "Hello, Mr. Porter. I believe that you will find that it is afternoon now."

"12:03," Henry said glancing at the ornate grandfather's clock near the headmaster's desk. "Good afternoon, then, Professor McGonagall."

"The tea is for you," a smiling Professor McGonagall replied. "Do feel free to indulge in the biscuits."

"If I'm being led to slaughter," Henry said taking a piece of shortbread. "I might as well enjoy the fattening."

Dumbledore laughed choosing to take the boy's words as a joke. "I have the impression that you are not coming into this conversation ignorant," he said.

"I've been doing a lot of reading in the last week, sir," Henry replied. "But let's see if we are all talking about the same thing."

Dumbledore started to speak but stopped before he said anything. Gazing into space, he eased back into in his favorite chair. After a few moments, he suddenly shook his head as a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Pride gets us all," he said ruefully. "My mistakes have brought us to this day and even though I know this, I find it difficult to say so. Silly, is it not."

"Nobody likes to be wrong, Professor," Henry answered. "I mean, who wants to be the fool?"

"No one wishes to appear foolish but acknowledging your mistakes is the first step in correcting them," Dumbledore said. "So we shall discuss several of mine today."

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair. His deep blue eyes peered over his half-moon spectacles as if he wanted to see Henry's soul. It was uncomfortable, almost intimidating, to be stared at so even when there was no malice but Henry tried not to show his unease.

"I gather that you have learned who you are?" Dumbledore asked abruptly.

"I have a fair notion what name I was born with," Henry replied coyly.

"The boy does not give away much," the headmaster thought with approval.

"I have the needed proof but let's not get into evidence at the moment," Dumbledore said. "For the sake of convenience, please accept for the moment that you are indeed Harry James Potter, the boy who lived or, at least, you were born such and as such are one of the wealthiest wizards in Britain."

"Huh?"

"That's the truth but I say it only as an attention getter," Dumbledore chuckled. "The short biography is this; you were born in possibly the darkest days for the British magical nation. In his attempt to gain mastery over us, Lord Voldemort unleashed the very hounds of hell. Murder and terror were the order of the day. Much of the wizarding population was ready to capitulate to Tom just for some hope of peace."

"Excuse me, sir," Henry interrupted. "Who's Tom?"

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore replied. "When he was a student here at Hogwarts, Lord Voldemort was simply Tom Riddle, an orphan born of a witch and a muggle. From the start, he was a subtle bully who delighted in the fear he brought those weaker then him and bending them to his will. As his years here went by, I could see the darkness and lust for greater and greater power grow within him as he increased his knowledge."

"Sorta like Luke Skywalker's dad becoming Darth Vader," Henry said.

"I don't know that reference, Henry," Dumbledore admitted.

"It's from a science fiction film," Professor McGonagall told him. "A trilogy of films to be correct. It is an apt comparison, Mr. Porter."

"That's what it gets me for not having your love of the cinema," Dumbledore said lightly. "Back to the matter at hand, your parents, James and Lily Potter, were among the bravest and most daring of those who actively fought against Voldemort and his Death Eater minions. James was the scion of one of the most prominent and wealthiest families in the wizarding community. Lily was a muggleborn from a very ordinary background who became a truly outstanding witch."

"They were good and brave people," Professor McGonagall injected. "You would have been very proud of them even if I did despair at times that James would never grow up."

"Her pregnancy, needless to say, altered their lives," Dumbledore continued. "Despite the constant danger and the uncertainty of the future, Lily never considered any option but to have you. She and James went into hiding shortly after your birth. Tragically, one they thought was a friend of theirs betrayed them and they were killed by Voldemort himself."

"Yet I was not," Henry said. "This is where the accounts that I've read get murky."

Dumbledore mirthlessly laughed. "It gets murky because this is where I began to make mistakes. Lily defied Voldemort and attempted to shield you. Her sacrifice gave to you a protection that Voldemort did not expect and that oversight nearly destroyed him. This same protection caused Professor Quirrell to burn when he tried to touch you and it was this same protection I sought to use on your behalf eleven years ago."

"With your parents dead," he continued with self-mockery. "It was my brilliant plan to hide you with your muggle relatives. I was going to invoke the ancient shield of bloodlines to keep you safe from the remaining Death Eaters until you came of age."

"Mom and Dad are really relatives of mine?" Henry asked.

"No, Henry," Dumbledore sighed. "They are not. You see, one reason that the plan succeeded so well was that I left you at the wrong house. Even if the Death Eaters had thought to investigate your muggle aunt, you would not have been there for them to find."

He knew that it was rude but Henry could not stop himself from laughing aloud. It was such an improbable mistake for the clever headmaster to make.

"I'm sorry, sir," Henry said. "It's just, well, unexpected."

"Oh it gets better, I assure you," Dumbledore replied candidly. "I thought it best not to draw attention to you by my presence so after I returned clandestinely a few nights later to place the protective enchantments on the house, I never again returned to Little Whinging. I instead installed a middle-aged widow of my acquaintance in the neighborhood to keep an eye on things. I told her to establish herself as the local babysitter but did not, for reasons of secrecy, tell her which child I was truly interested in. As a result, I did not discover my errors for ten years."

Henry knocked a few shortbread crumbs from his lips and took a long sip of tea. A mistake had set him on to a convoluted path to his parents. For that, Henry was grateful but there were some nagging questions on his mind.

"Why all the secrecy?" he asked.

"Voldemort had disappeared but his followers were still legion," Dumbledore replied. "I could not be sure how many of them that he had taken into his confidence. Voldemort was aware that his greatest enemy, the only one that he truly had to fear had been recently born. His attempt on your life marked you as that enemy. What Death Eater would not risk everything to kill you especially after you, unknowingly of course, had nearly killed their master?"

"A grown man," Henry incredulously began, "A full blown wizard feared a baby?"

"A year before you were born, a seer had prophesized your birth and your significance. Voldemort was told of this presage," Dumbledore explained. "Do you know what an avatar is?"

"No," Henry answered.

"In this instance, it means a bodily manifestation," the headmaster replied. "Lord Voldemort views you as the prophesy views you, not as the babe you that you were nor the boy that you are but as his equal, probably his only equal. You are, in essence, an avatar of light in contrast to his avatar of darkness."

Henry frowned. He had entered the room with a certain amount of cockiness but that was rapidly draining away. He thought that his research would have given him the upper hand when talking to the headmaster but the conversation was not going where he envisioned it would.

"What does the prophesy say?" Henry uncertainly asked after a few moments.

"Basically that neither you nor Voldemort can truly live while the other is alive," Dumbledore told him bluntly.

"Why," Henry asked.

Dumbledore raised his hands. "Ying-yang, split souls, Cain and Abel, I just don't know."

Henry lapsed into silence. He struggled with the idea that he was in a kill or be killed situation because of a fortuneteller but Professor Dumbledore seemed to be speaking the truth.

"What is it that you want to do with me?" He finally asked. "Turn me into some kinda of super duper dark wizard hunter?"

"If I could, I would, Harry, excuse me, Henry" Dumbledore replied frivolously but quickly grew serious. "What I would like is for you to return to Hogwarts and complete your education here. I cannot train you as an auror when you are only eleven. You simply do not have the knowledge needed. What I will do is have you learn skills beyond the normal subject matter that will help you stay alive."

"Such as?" Henry asked curiously.

"Hagrid will teach you woodcraft and outdoor survival," Dumbledore replied. "I'll teach you some of the oriental martial arts as well as…what's so funny?"

"Sorry, sir," Henry replied gaining control over his sudden laughter. "Another movie thing. You see in so many kung fu movies an old master with a long white beard doing these impossible feats."

"I cannot say that I have seen any such films but I can assure you that I am the genuine article," Dumbledore replied. "I spent sixteen years in the orient during the last century and have continued to train faithfully since then. I cannot do the impossible but you might be amazed at what the human body is capable of with proper training and practice. There will be times when using magic may not be possible or practical. Besides, I have been given to understand that you are a bit of a fighter already."

"You become one when you are always one of the shortest boys in your school," Henry replied.

"Furthermore," the headmaster continued. "I'll also train you in legilimency and occlumency which is truth reading and mind shielding respectively. I will ask Professor McGonagall here to work with you on becoming an animagus but that will not be for two or three years. You don't have the foundation yet to attempt it."

"Anything more?" Henry asked.

"Hogwarts will have a new DADA teacher in the fall," Dumbledore replied. "His name is Alastor Moody but most people know him as Mad Eye. You'll understand the nickname when you meet him. He has been the ministry's top auror for decades. You and your fellow students will get a very solid, practical education in combating the dark arts from a man with vast experience. He'll work with you on your arcane dueling skills. He also has a synthetic eye so I am sure that you'll learn how to take complete advantage of your own eyes."

"Mister Porter," Professor McGonagall said. "The one thing that you must do is what you have done this year. You must apply yourself to all of your lessons. Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters are skilled, motivated people with no scruples. You never know what bit of knowledge will be needed at anytime."

"So I come back in September, learn what you want me to and then go defeat Voldemort," Henry said. "Is that it in a nutshell?"
"No," Dumbledore replied noting the hard edge to the boy's voice. "You come back in September and spend the next six years learning all that you can and then we pray that you are able to defeat Voldemort."

Henry looked at the old wizard. "No guarantees?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "The only guarantee that I can give you is that we will do all within our capabilities to teach you all that you are able to learn."

Henry rested his head on the back of the couch and sighed deeply. "I guess asking 'why me?' is about useless."

"Self pity is unproductive," Dumbledore apologetically replied. "But there has been many times in my long life that I have screamed 'why me?' into the uncaring night."

"Did the night ever give you an answer?" Henry asked rolling his head to one side so he could see the headmaster.

"No. In the end, I just accepted the paradox of the existence of both free will and fate," the ancient wizard responded. "And then I freely accepted that such matters were my fate."

"Is that what I should do?" Henry asked. "Is that what you want me to do?"

"What I want is your dedication to study, your trust in me and your devotion to my cause," Dumbledore said. "What I will accept is your decision. It is your life that we are discussing here, Henry."

Henry sat up straight and ran a hand over his short hair. "I reckon I made my decision in August when I choose to come here. Now, I must deal with the consequences of that choice."

"No, Henry," Dumbledore said. "Free will means that we can change our minds. Each day we can walk down a different path from yesterday's choice."

"Yes but Voldemort knows about me and has tried to kill me twice already," Henry replied shaking his head. "Besides you tell me that I can train to the gills yet still might not beat him in a third fight. If that is the case, I figure that if I don't listen to you and don't learn what you guys want me to then I'd have less chance then a fat man in cannibal country when he does come back for me."

"You will return in September then?" Dumbledore asked trying to keep the elation from his voice.

"Yes, sir," Henry said as he stood. "But I would like to keep the boy who lived stuff buried. I don't want my parents in danger just because they adopted me."

"I have no intention of resurrecting Harry Potter," the headmaster assured him as he also stood. "If it will ease your mind any, I'll travel to your new home and place some protective wards over it this summer."

"I'd be very obliged if you would do that, Professor," Henry told him. "They live in Lincolnshire now."

"I know that," Professor Dumbledore laughed letting his delight show. "I misplaced a Potter. I do not intent to lose track of a Porter. Do you have any more questions? About James and Lily? Your money? Anything?"

"The only real question I had was why they tried to kill me and I suppose that you have answered that the best that you could," Henry said slowly. "I guess there isn't a complete answer to it."

Dumbledore patted the boy's shoulder affectionately as they walked to the stairwell. "Some questions just are not answerable in this life, lad."

Henry paused at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Henry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I dunno," Henry answered with a shrug. "I suppose I'm kinda of scared to walk out of here knowing what's coming."

Dumbledore grasped the boy by the shoulders. Wisdom and love sparkled in his blue eyes and his voice was firmly confident. "Fear is to be expected, Henry, only the delusional are with out it. Fear is a servant cautioning us to think before we act. It is only when we allow fear to become our master does it harm us."

"Yeah, I know," Henry said. "It's just, I dunno. It just sucks, I guess. Why does anyone want to be able to tell anyone else what to do? It doesn't make sense to me."

"I know what you mean, Henry. All I ever wanted was a scholar's life but Grindelwald was other ambitions. In the end, I had to kill him on a beautiful summer's day," Dumbledore replied casting his mind back to that fateful encounter decades earlier. "His corpse was lying at my feet and I wondered why a man would risk death and disdainfully cast aside such simple pleasures as feeling the warmth of the sun or a good book or love for something as amorphous as power and position."

"I hear you, Professor. All I want to do is raise horses but I can't until this is done with," Henry ruefully said before turning toward Professor McGonagall. "If you don't mind, ma'am, I'd like to write to Maggie this summer. I'm gonna miss her."

"You may do so, Mr. Porter," She said with a nod but the small smile on her mouth was not in her eyes. Minerva McGonagall suddenly saw Henry Porter as potentially something more then just a school friend of her daughter. The boy had an uncertain future, at best, and anyone close to him would be in danger. She made a mental note to herself to keep a very close eye on her daughter's friendship with Henry Porter.

With a determined smile and a wave, Henry disappeared down the stairs.

"A strange boy," Albus said after he heard the bottom door close. "I tell him that he is one of the wealthiest people in Britain and he never once asked about the money."

"No, he's different to be sure," Minerva acknowledged.

Albus caught the tone of her voice and guessed the reason. "They are not yet twelve, dear one. She is his friend and he wants to stay in touch over the summer. It's not as if a wedding is being planned."

"A small breeze is the harbinger of a hurricane," she replied. "I was scarcely thirteen when I fell in love with you."

Albus was surprised. "That almost qualifies as necrophilia for a teenaged girl."

Despite her moody thoughts, Minerva laughed. "Many would think that it would be still if they knew of our relationship."

Albus squeezed her hand with affection gently steering her back to the couch. "One thing that I have learned over my lifetime is that you can not tell anyone whom they should love. A heart wants what a heart wants."

"I know," she replied as she sat down. "And it's likely that Henry and Maggie's friendship will not evolve beyond simply that but the boy will be a lightning rod for danger. Those closest to him will be in peril."

"And our task is to prepare him to face those dangers now that he is committed," Albus saidwalking to the sideboard. "He and Maggie both would be best served by you concentrating on today and leaving tomorrow's troubles until then."

"You're right," Minerva said. "But Maggie is my daughter and avatar of light or not, Henry is still a boy and soon to be an adolescent one at that and that alone is a reason to keep a watch on him. However, as you say, we have much to do over the next six years with young Mr. Porter."

"On that note," Dumbledore said as he mixed some drinks. "I received an owl from Alastor last night. He had some interesting suggestions."

A/N: Please forgive the delay in posting this chapter. Mea culpa. My only excuse is that the mundane tasks of the everyday intruded upon the fantasy world of fan fiction. The final chapter will be forthcoming in a more timely manner.