Albus Dumbeldore; Supreme Mugwup of the Wizarding Wizengaot, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin First Class, and Defeater of the Dark Lord Grindewald. This great man had never sat at his desk in the Headmaster's Office of Hogwarts with such sadness as he did this very moment as he read over the weekly report of Harry Potter. Normally he didn't read these reports, but after his last meeting with Harry... he felt an unnatural desire and need to read over this stack of parchment containing the many individual reports from the different guards on rotation to watch over the young man.
The first few reports were nothing special, inked notations about the Dursley's and their odd muggle habits... he skipped over the majority of all the reports and focused on the one's from Moody. The ex-Auror with his magical eye was the only one of the watchmen who really got to see the internal work of the Dursley home... and how Harry truly lived. What he read in the reports from Moody made his blood boil. How Vernon would only allow Harry exit of his room but twice a day, and his small meals through that detestable cat flap. What really saddened Dumbeldore though was the fact Harry, when not being allowed his small exits of his room, did nothing but sit on his bed... and stare off into the bleak nothingness.
There were special notes in all of the reports that caught his eye... demanded attention, like the report itself. He would of shrugged off these repetitive notes, had it not been backed up by Moodys analysis as well. All of them read near the same:
Once or twice everyday, Harry will come to his window and look out at the lawn. At first, I passed this off as him wanting to see the sun, or longing to be outside and play like a normal child. Then... I look into his eyes, and my entire body froze. He stared down, not at the lawn, but directly at me... how he saw me I'll never know, I was disillusioned under my invisibility cloak, he couldn't have seen me... couldn't have. But aside from that piercing gaze that told me he could see me, his eyes cried such pain I couldn't look at him, I couldn't return his gaze with one of stabability.
All of the reports had notes like this; some scrawled tidily and neatly like all of their other hand-writing, some messy as if they wanted to write it down and never again remember it. It was the one's which had tear stains splattered on them which forced him to acknowledge their truth. He couldn't ignore this, his responsibility to Harry or the world in which he now served forbade him to. He had handed over everything he knew to Harry, or as much as he could divulge in that small span of time, true... he had much more to tell, but for now it was neither fact nor proven, nothing to bother Harry's life over.
He wondered what to do in this situation, he had taught children for over fifty years now... yet when it came to Harry he felt his judgment and objectives were biased. This would not do, he acknowledged this now. He needed someone who could understand Harry... someone who would not put their interesting ahead of his development. More importantly, he needed someone who knew the situation in it's full context, and was more then capable of healing Harry's wounds. Who... who... who would do the best job? He frowned into his steepled fingers as he looked over scattered parchment on his desk, each defining different orders of business he still needed to tend to. It would wait though, this time... it would come after Harry.
Harry sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes staring into the dark abyss of his room, a swirling landscape filled with a definition of oblique haze. He hadn't spoken but a few words in the past week, most of them coming the first night back, his world still a spiral of inconsistencies. He sat there, his hands clasped lightly in his lap, his back straight, and his eyes forward... waiting for darkness to descend outside so he may go to bed. The sun setting and rising was his only form of time now, though he rarely used it for that use, it was merely a reminder of when to rise and when to fall. It couldn't be helped, that mere thought caused his eyes widen, his pupils dilating, he felt the burning so painful he reached up and took a hold of his eyes as he let out a scream of pain.
He shouldn't have thought that, he knew it... it just helped remind him of his death, his doom, his future. "Figures," he murmured to himself, "the one time I have a brilliant metaphorical thought... it lashes against me in such a way it condemns me to more pain and suffering then I have already." He sighed into his hands as he rubbed his eyes, the continued to burn, an irritating pain that riddled his very nervous system. That's when he heard it, a soft pop followed by a fluttering noise. He didn't bother looking up as he continued to rub his eyes, he knew who it was, "Good evening. Headmaster Dumbeldore." His voice was grating, now spoken above a whisper, it sounded like chalkboards being rubbed together, a frog shoved so far down his throat that he was bound to never be rid of it in his lifetime.
Dumbeldore, for his part, was amazed that he hadn't jumped clean out of his skin as Harry had acknowledged his existence, and in that voice no less. he quivered before steeling himself, watching the boy rub at his eyes furiously, trying to remove something he couldn't begin to understand. "Good evening, Harry. You seem to have something in your eye, would you like me to remove it?" Harry shrugged absently and removed his hands from his eyes, looking up at Dumbeldore for the first time in weeks, but for Dumbeldore... this was the first time he had ever looked into the true Harry Potter.
Harry's eyes were filled with a dissilience and deprivation so strong, it took Dumbeldore all of his occlumency skills to not show an ounce of his fear. He shivered just a tad as he reached into his robes and slowly removed his wand, pacingly taking a few steps towards Harry. As he looked down, Harry looked up, and he couldn't keep his face from forming an 'O' in surprise. Just as soon as he made that face, Harry's face formed into one of suspicion as he stood up to his full height, now staring Dumbeldore directly in the eye. The old man vaguely asked himself when Harry had gotten so tall, but the true question for him now... was what was that in Harry's eye?
It would generally be unnoticed, you had to be directly looking for something off to see the slight deformations in Harry's emerald eyes. Instead of just Harry's normal green iris and pupil, he now had a black circle forming between his pupil and the border of his iris, and two coma like pupils forming on opposite side of the ring. He stared hard, going so far as he drop his wand into his sleeve and taking Harry's face in his hands, and pulled the boy forcibly closer. Harry struggled to get away, grabbing a handful of Dumbeldores robes and pushing the old man away from him, but to no avail.
"Harry... what did you do to your eyes?" Dumbeldore knew for a fact Harry couldn't have done this, it was impossible for the young man to know how to perform that ritual... to get those eyes. What shocked him to his core, was the thought of those other eyes. His brief spasm of fore fronted knowledge caused him to loosen his grip, giving Harry the strength to push him back. The boy with a sudden rush of empowerment jumped onto his cot and pulled out his wand, aiming it directly at Dumbeldores heart.
"Who do you think you are!" His voice trembled with anger, rage pouring around him... then his head snapped backwards as if the backlash of his energy had struck him with a physical blow. He couldn't hold himself up as his body went limp, and he began to plummet to the ground.
"Wingardium Leviosar," The word's were simply spoken, and with a swish and flick of Dumbeldores wand, Harry's body defied gravity and hovered in it's spot. The aging wizard slowly lowered his form onto the cot. "Harry... I am sorry for that," Dumbeldore spoke softly, walking over to look down at Harry's form, "but I was caught by surprise." He sighed and rubbed his hands together, "Your eyes... they have." He looked around nervously, the subject of these types of eyes hadn't been broached since Dumbeldore was a man of twenty, when the last of that pureblood house died off.
"Just spit it out, sir." Harry's tongue lashed out, cutting into Dumbeldores contemplation of long forgotten knowledge.
Piercing blue met raging emerald green, their wills battled for but a brief moment before Harry looked away, staring back into the darkness of his room. The wizened old wizard shook his head, "Harry... your eyes... they are infected. It could have been, most serious had someone not seen." With that he waved his wand, and muttered an incantation to quick and silent for Harry to hear, and Harry's eyes no longer burned... they no longer held the eye dotons(1).
Harry looked up startled, staring at Dumbeldore with a mixture of fear and realization, "Sir... did, did you get rid of it?" his voice was shaky, scared... filled with need to know he would be alright.
"Yes, Harry. I have..." he paused a moment as he looked into Harry's eyes, such deep despair. "Harry, why are you so worried about a simple eye infection?"
At first Harry said nothing, his eyes looking around as if the answer lay somewhere in the shadow's of his room. Then, after finding nothing, he closed his eyes, "I... I was afraid, sir." He shook for a moment, Dumbeldore reached down to touch his shoulder but Harry scooted away, finally finding the strength to sit up. "I have a destiny to fulfill, if my eyes are damaged. I fear, it will cause me even more trouble to die in the death of Tom Riddle." His voice was so solemn, so determined. Dumbeldore felt his knees give as he feel down, his knees striking the hard wood and the floor as he knelt before Harry.
"You should never think you are going to die Harry. You are stronger then that." Dumbeldore sat there, on his knees in front of Harry... his voice pleading, thrashing forward to try and get the boy to see the error of his words.
Harry shook his head though, the truth was so entrenched in his mind now, he saw the truth Dumbeldore tried to hide, "No... it's ok, sir. I understand now, I see the way things will happen." He turned and looked at the most powerful of wizard's, now down on his knees. "I thank you though... from the bottom of my soul. You may go now sir, I shall see you September 1, when I arrive at Hogwarts for the start of term." With that he swung his feet over the side of his cot and sat there; his hands clasped lightly in his lap, and staring at the wall opposite of him.
"You... you." Dumbeldore stammered for a moment before he stood up, shaking his head wearily. "Harry, I am sorry for what I have done, my sorrow can not be matched." He turned and walked toward the middle of the small bedroom, "I am going to be sending someone to live with you for the month, then you will be moved to a location of your desire. I won't be sending you back to... well, I won't be sending you to Headquarters." He didn't want to remind Harry of Sirius, he tried his hardest to avoid it. "My only question, is who you would like to stay with you. Please, do not say you would like no one here, because whether you wish it or not, someone will be here."
Harry heaved a sigh as he looked down to his hands, "I see them outside... they aren't careful enough with their cloaks." Dumbeldore frowned slightly as his thoughts weaved in his mind, 'Or perhaps Harry, your eyes see to much.' Harry head raised just as the old man washed away his frown with a look of nonjudgmental feelings, "They are there, why have someone in here? To look out for me? Surely Moody covers that ground well enough with his magical eye. I don't see the point of condemning someone to stand in the dark while I sit here."
White locks shook as Dumbeldores head moved from side to side, "Mr. Moody and the others watch you Harry... they survey the area and make sure that neither you nor your family are harmed by Tom's forces. I want someone here, to care for you... to talk with you... to be with you in a way you do not have. Who would you like to be here?"
"Who?" He looked back down, his eyes wavering, "I... I don't know."
"Perhaps one of your friends? Mr. Weasley? Miss. Granger?" Dumbeldore supplied gently.
He shook his head, "No... Hermione is away on vacation, she need's to spend time with her family. I won't condemn her to waste away with me."
Dumbeldore smiled serenely, "And... Mr. Weasley?"
Harry blushed slightly as he kept his face looking down, "Umm, well... uh. Ron, he's um." He gripped his knees tight, "I believe he's with his family in Romania, with Charlie where he studies dragons."
With a nod Dumbeldore waved his wand, conjuring a chair, and sat down, "Yes, I had forgotten that snippet of information. Hmmm, we do seem to have a conundrum... whoever could we place here."
His eyes were met with Harry's, a look of devout need digging into him, "Sir... would, Remus be available to come here?" His voice had picked up, more energetic, more happy... needful.
Dumbeldores head shook as he looked down, "Remus is not currently available to anyone. He had gone into reclusion... he need's his own amount of time to mourn. He is after all, the last of a trio the likes of which have never been seen since yourself, Mr. Weasley, and Miss. Granger had your expedition into that girl's lavatory to, what was it, Troll hunt?"
Harry, who would normally laugh at the reminder of his first adventure at Hogwarts, could only look down as tears began to stream down his face. Dumbeldore upon seeing this looked up with a sharp concern, about to ask what was the matter when Harry spoke in a voice so depressed, he could feel tears ready to break through his own eyes, "Mourn... he's mourning over Sirius." He couldn't stop it, he didn't want to stop it, his body becoming choked on tears as he hunched back over himself, sobs racking through him as he cried into himself. His body heaved up and down, droplets of tears splashing against the hardwood of his floor. At first, he could do nothing, nothing but sit there and cry as if his entire world had died in front of him... for after all, that was what had happened to him.
It was Dumbeldore who was in shock, in shock to watch a boy he had watched face Voldemort more times then himself and live, break down and crying. A boy who had faced such hardships it made the most sound of men themselves weep as he did now. He steepled his fingers, and then escaping into the world of his mind, he hid the view of Harry from himself, he blocked the noise from his ears, he kept the salty smell from his nose... he knew if he watched this, his hope would blink out like a flame depraved of oxygen.
It lasted for five minutes, both men locked inside worlds of depression so deep, they no longer acknowledged either's existence. Then, as Harry began to come out of his sobbing mess, Dumbeldore lightening his mental defenses. When their eyes met, they both flinched. Their relationship was so damaged, Dumbeldore found it hard to believe Harry could stand being in the same room with him... and now, he had hoped a flood gate of emotion so vast, their relationship no longer mattered. All that mattered now, was their futures.
"Harry... I am going to arrange for Nymphadora to join you here. She is a trained Auror, and very intelligent. As well, she is only a few years old then yourself, allowing for you to communicate with her ways you could never communicate with an elder. She will be training you Harry..." he reached into his robes and pulled out a sealed envelope and handed it to Harry, "This is a signed letter of confirmation by the Minister of Magic, that decrees that the Underage Use of Magic ban be lifted at twelve o'clock tonight."
Harry reached out and took the envelope in his hands, having been told what it does, he stood up and walked over to his desk. With a slow movement he pulled out a lighter from his desk and lit the letter on fire and dropped it on the ground. He looked over at Dumbeldore, "This goes for all people, not just myself, correct?"
Dumbeldore looked down at the envelope as it burned away, the hardwood was so old and thick that it was even hardly burnt, "Yes... all of your friends will be receiving their letters at exactly twelve o'clock tonight."
With a nod Harry moved back over to his bed and sat down, "Good, Hermione will be very happy. She can go ahead and start practicing everything she has read." Dumbeldore smiled as he nodded slightly, waving Harry to continue. "I need to go to Diagon Alley. As well, I need a stock pile of restricted books... books I won't find in any bookstore." To his credit, Dumbeldore looked slightly suspicious, leading Harry to explain himself, "I need to learn things, other's don't. Thing's Voldemort knows, that I need to know how to defend against."
With a satisfied nod Dumbeldore stood up, "Nymphadora will join you tomorrow, sometime in the afternoon. She will have all the things you requested, and at the end of the week you may go to Diagon Alley, it shall be secured by then... the Ministry now taking the proper methods to protect the people."
Harry stood slowly and nodded and shook Dumbeldores hand, "Thank you, sir." With that, Dumbeldore vanished with a soft pop... going away to do things so recluse and demanding Harry didn't even want to question about it. Slowly moving back to his cot; he sat down on the edge, clasped his hands in his lap, and lost himself in the world of darkness still plaguing his mind. He looked to the place Dumbeldore once stood, and his eyes narrowed in hatred, "Thank you… for giving me the tools I will need…" He smiled slightly and then looked down, his eyes closing as he shut himself into the void of his despair.
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1. Doton: The Japanese term for the extra sensory pupils associate with the Sharigan.