"I don't understand, Sir," Harry replied, bewildered.
It didn't quite fit that the Headmaster should be sorry for he and Draco going wand to wand, but Harry wasn't going to leave until he got an explanation. He didn't have to wait long.
"Harry, not many people know about the duel between myself and Grindlewald."
Dumbledore stopped there, and Harry felt it appropriate to question.
"Sir, I'm not entirely sure I get your meaning. I mean, everyone knows about Grindlewald- it's on the back of your Chocolate Frog card."
"True as that may be, Harry, but even truer still is that everyone does NOT know that I came face to face with Lord Grindlewald more than once."
"Like I have with Voldemort?"
"Yes… and no. Unlike with yourself and Tom Riddle, the first duel between Grindlewald and I was planned, and planned by myself, not the Dark Force. I went to him, and I lost."
Now Harry was more confused than ever.
"Sir, how could you have—"
"I lost, the first time, because I let my anger get the best of me."
"Sir?"
Dumbledore sighed.
"It was not unlike what happened between yourself and Mr. Malfoy earlier today in Professor Snape's dungeon. Grindlewald provoked me with words, I attacked, and I lost."
Harry let out a large breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "What happened, sir?"
"I sought out the fight of the century, and I got it. After having been so provoked, I was in a complete rage, and dueled with vigor. Much like your friend Miss Granger came to you aide and stopped you… so my wife came to mine."
Harry's eyes widened. It had never consciously occurred to him before, but now that his Professor had mentioned it, it seemed almost obvious. Harry was sure that many people often wondered why Albus had never married, or, more appropriately, wasn't married, but no one had ever questioned why.
"What—what happened to her, sir?"
"She died attempting to save my life."
"I'm sorry, sir. …It—it was Grindlewald, wasn't it, sir?"
"No, Harry. It wasn't."
Harry paused, unsure as how to continue on such a sensitive subject, but Albus saved him the trouble.
"She arrived behind me. She alone knew I wasn't ready, and she alone knew how stubborn I was. She deduced that I would go to Grindlewald, and when she found me I was in a complete rage."
"Like I was earlier today, sir?" Harry managed to choke out.
"Exactly like you were, Harry. She tried to pull me out of the cave and my magical energy threw her off of me, just like—"
"Just like mine did to Daphne and Hannah," Harry supplied in a tortured whisper.
Dumbledore leaned forward with his elbows on the table, and rested his head in his hands for a moment, before sitting straight once more and removing his hat. As the Headmaster traced an aged finger along his forehead, Harry realized that he was feeling his scar. Instinctively, his right hand flew up and felt his own.
"I was angry, Harry. Furious, really, and I'm sure you can see why. I tricked myself into believing that it was Grindlewald that had killed her. Cursed her behind my back before I could see her, impaling her on a stalagmite.
"It took me years before I finally watched the memory in my Pensieve. Years, because I was afraid of the truth. I knew, deep down, that it was I that had killed her and not Grindlewald. When I finally faced it, it nearly destroyed me."
"So that's why you made me relive mine today, wasn't it Professor? So I wouldn't have time to shut it out?"
"Yes, Harry. And I know how painful it was for you. Luckily, no one was fatally injured, but I understand how much it must cause you pain to know what you had done."
"I never wanted them to be afraid of me, sir. I think that's what hurt the most. If my friends follow me in the D.A. because they're afraid of me, then it makes me no better than Lord Voldemort."
Dumbledore smiled, but it was halfheartedly. "That is exactly what I wanted you to understand, Harry."
Harry nodded, and prepared to depart, but stopped.
"There's something else you want to tell me, isn't there, sir?"
Removing his half-moon shaped spectacles, Dumbledore polished them on his robe.
"I can't seem to pull the wool over your eyes, can I Mr. Potter?" he smiled, bemusedly.
"No offense, sir," Harry began, "but no. You can't any more, and even if you could, I would ask you not to. Keeping things from me has only seemed to hurt the Order, and us, and I don't want to diminish our chances any further. We're only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. I believe you told me that."
Dumbledore paused in his absent-minded cleaning, and raised his eyebrows, staring directly into Harry's vivid green eyes.
"My my, Mr. Potter. You certainly have grown, haven't you?"
Harry paused, considering the Headmaster's words. "I think I'll talk that as a compliment, sir, but you're getting off the subject. You wanted to tell me something, and now you're just stalling."
Harry wasn't entirely sure, but reviewing the memory later on, he could have sworn he saw Albus Dumbledore pout.
"I see you're not to be distracted. Admirable, really, Harry, I must say. But yes, it is time I explained why I am sorry."
"About me and Malfoy's fight, sir?"
"No. Why I am sorry for what I've done. Not only to you, but to everyone."
Harry sat back, and patiently waited for Albus to continue, prepared to hang on every word.
"You do know, Harry, that I strongly abdicate the use of Unforgivable Curses, do you not?"
"I do, sir. I think everyone in the Wizarding World knows that, Professor."
"Quite right, Harry. But what everyone in the Wizarding World does NOT know is why."
Harry waited for a decent amount of time to pass before questioning softly, "Why is that, sir?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Because, Harry, without me, there would be no knowledge of Unforgivable curses to begin with."
Harry blanched. How could it be possible? There was no possible way that Albus Dumbledore was the one who initially made the Unforgivables!
Dumbledore raised a hand to stem to the flow of Harry's many questions.
"You see, Harry, after I turned around to see Cassandra dead, my rage became all the more concentrated onto Grindlewald, and I cast what was to be the blueprint for what is now the Avada Kedavra killing curse."
Harry felt his mandible become suddenly slack, and pushed it closed with his fingertips.
"It was not nearly as strong as today's curse, and so it was therefore deflectable by a strong wizard. Grindlewald was such a wizard, and cast a shield charm, and it rebounded upon myself, giving me the scar that you see today. A scar exactly like your own, not as deep, no, but still exactly the same. It was pain beyond pain, but it was nothing compared to the loss of my Cassandra. The last thing I remember of that duel is Grindlewald's laugh at my failure. Grindlewald's laugh at my own blunder killing the one I loved most."
"Oh, sir. I'm so sorry."
"Thank you, Harry."
"But, I—I'm not entirely sure I follow, sir. I mean, if you were the only one that knew about this… um, blueprint curse, then how did it become rediscovered?"
"Ah, I thought you might raise the question, Mr. Potter. And quite frankly, I'm glad you did—it saves me the trouble of having to bring it up."
Harry nodded, and prepared for another explanation.
"Do you remember when your first came across my Pensieve in your Fourth Year, Harry?"
Harry shivered, recalling the Dementors that had flanked Barty Crouch Jr. into the courtroom.
"Yes, sir. You said something about having 'put it away hastily' not having latched the cupboard properly."
Dumbledore hung his head. "Yes, Harry. And let you be the first to hear that it is not the first time I've done it, although it has since been the last."
Harry was afraid to ask, but he did any way. "What was the other time, Professor?"
"The other time…" he began slowly, "was about fifty-four years ago."
Harry's brain began rattling off the math faster than he could process it. As if on instinct, he blurted out—"You mean the year the Chamber of Secrets was first opened?"
"That is precisely the year, Harry. A young man, Head Boy, actually—"
"Riddle!" Harry cried, unable to contain himself.
"Yes, Harry. Tom Riddle. I had called him to my office to discuss possibly starting Animagus lessons with him—"
Harry's head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock.
"Rest assured, Harry," Dumbledore continued calmly, "I gave him no such lessons."
The raven-haired boy relaxed visibly, and the Headmaster continued.
"I was called out of my office rather abruptly, just as he was arriving, and I asked him to please come back the next day, as I didn't think we would have time to continue that night. That was the night Myrtle Gravely was killed by the basilisk.
"I went with Headmaster Dippet to attend to the girl, and left it to Tom to head back to his dormitory. I ran into him once again later that night, and but that was an entirely different matter."
Harry recalled the memory he had witnessed through the Diary back in his second year, and everything that had happened afterward. He remembered how Dumbledore, then the Transfiguration teacher, had asked Tom if there was anything he had wanted to tell him. He remembered how Tom had lied, and remembered how he himself had also lied to the Professor in reference to the chamber. Shivering, he focused his attention back on the headmaster.
"I returned back to my office to find that my Pensieve had been used. I knew it was none of the other staff members, as they had all been with Headmaster Dippet and I dealing with Miss Gravely's parents, and immediately suspected Riddle, he having been the only other person near my office that night. Going back through it, I found the memory that had been accessed."
"Your first fight with Grindlewald?"
"The very one. It was then that I stopped trusting Tom Riddle. After Hagrid had been accused, I found out that the very accuser was the one and only Head Boy. As far as I was concerned, my suspicions had been confirmed. Tom Riddle was not to be trusted."
"So you think that Tom found the curse, researched it, and made it into Avada Kedavra?"
"I'm positive, Harry. There's no other way. I told no one of the first fight with Grindlewald. Everyone thought that Cassandra had been taken in the night and then killed by Grindlewald to get to me. I was too ashamed to correct them."
"I don't blame you, sir."
"I beg your pardon, Harry?"
"I said I don't blame you, sir. About the power. I know how you felt- I know how that power feels. There was nothing you could do—"
"I could have controlled it! I should have!"
"No, sir, you couldn't have. If it was anything like what I felt today, then there was no possible way you could have controlled your anger. So I don't blame you for using that curse."
"I do, Harry. If I hadn't used it, then—"
"Sir, PLEASE. What matters is that the second time around, you won. I think the only reason you DID win was because you had made that first initial mistake. You learned from your anger, and by doing so you were able to defeat the darkest wizard known at that time.
"When it came down to it, you, Albus- not Grindlewald- came out on top. You controlled it the second time, and you won. If you hadn't felt that anger in the first place, you would have never been able to harness the power that enabled you to defeat him. It happened for a reason, sir. Without that initial anger, you would have lost. THAT is why I don't blame you, sir."
"I—I don't know what to say, Harry. Other than I guess we both have made mistakes, and we both have apologies that need to be made."
Harry smiled. "Then don't say anything. And you're right, I have apologies to make, too. To everyone in my potions class, to Professor Snape… it won't be easy to do that one."
"It's good that you're going to, Harry. I wonder if it would be suitable to have Draco apologize as well, seeing as many of the curses that hit your fellow students were from him as well."
Harry shrugged. "If you see it fit, sir."
Dumbledore nodded. "I do. Harry?"
"Yes, sir?"
"If my memory serves me correctly, did you just call me Albus?"
Harry blushed, and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, sir. I believe I did. But I only did it to stress a point because—"
Albus raised his hand to stem the young man's flow of excuses.
"Harry, please, do not apologize for that. In fact, I would actually prefer it if you would call me Albus when we talk, and I've been meaning to ask you to for quite some time."
Harry grinned. "Really, sir?"
"Really. Now, there's much more that I need to discuss with you, but at the present time, I feel it to be rather late. If you could head back to your dormitory, I shall arrange another meeting with you at a later date."
"Sure, sir. Any time."
"Thank you, Harry."
"Oh, um, Albus?"
Dumbledore smiled. It surprised him how pleased it made him to hear his protégé finally calling him by his first name. He paused his rummaging through his lemon drop tin to look up.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Can I call you 'Al'?"
Dumbledore wrinkled his nose, and glared at him. Picking up a lemon drop from his tin, he threw it at Harry's head, where it bounced off his nose.
"Hey!"
Albus laughed merrily, and then sighed, shaking his head with tears of laughter in his eyes. "Go to bed, Harry!"
"Goodnight, Al… bus."
Harry turned and disappeared down the spiral staircase. Back in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore smiled sadly, shaking his head.
"Goodnight, Harry… My protégé, my boy. …You're like the son I never had."