Dreams
At night, he dreams. The house is dark and cold, standing proudly on a street surrounded by identical houses in a neat little row. No light is on and no sound comes from the house.
No sound, save a single whimper.
At night, he dreams. He strides up the walkway and spells open the door, and bending down, opens the cupboard door. An infant, a helpless little boy looks out at him, face twisted in pain.
At night, he dreams. The baby boy reaches out to him, tiny arms shaking, and he picks the little boy up and turns away, walking quickly out of the house. They vanish with a single swish of his cloak.
At night, he dreams. He watches the boy grow and change, watches as the child flies on a broomstick for the first time, stares at a Snitch in awe. He tracks down an old friend of the boy's father and hires him as a tutor for the young boy.
At night, he dreams. He watches the boy start his first year at Hogwarts, sees as he and a friend rescue a young girl early in the year, and watches their bond grow.
At night, he dreams that the child's parents never died, that the boy isn't a victim of Fate, that he never fought a Memory, battled Dementors, was forced into a Tournament or lost his godfather. He dreams that the boy was never forced to mutilate himself by a person who should have been protecting him.
He dreams of kindness and sweetness and light and happiness and laughter and joy.
At night, he dreams of saving him, of taking the burden of the future off of the boy's shoulders. At night, he dreams of making things right.
But in the morning, he wakes and rises to face another day.
In the morning, he wonders if Dumbledore ever dreamed.
My first drabble. :)
Review if you have something to say.
Cheers,
LIZ