A Meeting with Destiny

It was the next night after the night of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament; the next night after the night which had wrought such calamitous events onto the whole Wizarding World – the return incorporation of Voldemort and the reassembly of the Death Eaters–

Earlier that day, Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, had met with the parents of Cedric Diggory, the bright Hufflepuff boy who had died the previous night. The Headmaster had talked to them and had consoled them to the very best of his abilities, telling them that he would do whatever lay within his competences to prevent Cedric's sacrifice from going to waste and Cedric's memory from being lost. Cedric would be remembered, the Headmaster had told them.

Now, as the night was falling, Albus set out for an entirely different meeting altogether. Although, he must admit it to himself just a bit, perhaps its purpose was not to be altogether different from the purpose of the morning's reunion; however, with one significant difference. This time, perhaps, it was Albus Dumbledore himself who sought consolation, of a sort.

The enchanted hedge labyrinth which had been grown for the Third Task would serve his purposes perfectly, he decided. The traps and puzzles which had been created to test the mettle of the Champions had been already deactivated, and the magical creatures had been taken out of the maze, long before Albus stepped into the shadow of the twenty-foot hedge.

----

Albus Dumbledore rarely thought of the matters of the Endless. Apart from Death, whom he considered to be a most lovely young lady – indeed, at times he thought that he should introduce her to poor Severus; perhaps she would exert some positive effect on him–

Apart from Death, in short, he had never met any of them in person. He had, of course, read the Librum Fulvarum Paginarum; and he knew as much of them as was possible for a human to know – which was little or, rather, next to nothing at all. But this he did know: that one reached the abode of Destiny through a labyrinth, and only through a labyrinth; because all the labyrinths met there, where Destiny, the eldest of the Endless, walked eternally through his garden lit by the red light of a dying sun.

And so, Albus Dumbledore stepped into the hedge maze; and then, walked forward and forward; on and on. He was slightly surprised – though not overly so – when the directions the Lady Death had given him one day, when she had visited him for a tea and a sherbet lemon, started to prove true; when the walls of the maze started to change their texture and shape. He suppressed a sudden urge to use the Four-Point Spell to see what results it would bring; it would not do to unduly irritate his host before their first meeting.

Of course, his host would have known of their meeting – and of its resolution – even now, even before it happened. In a way, the fact that the meeting would take place at all – that his host was letting him enter his realm at all – was perhaps a fortunate augury in its own regard.

Or, perhaps it was not. Perhaps the fact of their meeting had been, indeed, written; but perhaps it had also been written that the meeting would bring no meaningful resolution–

Still, Albus thought, he might try. Harry was, for now, under Madam Pomfrey's care; Severus was off to meet with Voldemort. All that Albus could do for now was to take care that the Ministry did not attempt to hush up Voldemort's recorporation–

He crossed another corner, and emerged into an open space; he reached his destination at last.

----

"You are here to ask me a question, Albus Dumbledore."

Albus turned around from the seven statues which he was contemplating when his host surprised him. "Lord Destiny?" he asked, "It is an honour to meet you. Would you care for a Pear Drop?"

"State your question, Albus Dumbledore," Destiny calmly pressed on, ignoring Albus' attempt at civility.

He smells like an old library, Albus thought, eerily aware that Destiny must have known that thought as well. Aloud, he asked, "What must I know of the future, Lord Destiny?"

"This is not the question which you originally planned to ask me," Destiny stated.

"No, it isn't," Albus replied. "I wanted to ask you if Harry – Harry Potter – would defeat Voldemort. An old man's foolish weakness," he started to say; but a moment later – a moment too late – he remembered that he was talking to the oldest entity in the universe. He quickly recovered and said, "Then, I realised that the answer may be in the negative."

"You realise that there are paths which lie outside of my garden," Destiny continued, with the slightest hint of wonder in his even, steady voice.

"Yes, I do." Although the Headmaster of Hogwarts would never admit it to anyone, he found Destiny's manner of speaking only in affirmative sentences more than slightly disconcerting.

(Of course, he consoled himself, the only one who would ever know was Destiny; and Destiny already knew.)

"If I didn't, I could never believe in the fundamental freedom of choice," he continued, "Nevertheless, I maintain that my question stands as it is."

"Yes. You do," Destiny stated. "And now, you will know the consequence of your choice. The answer you seek is this: you must know that Severus Snape will kill you."

The robed figure turned around and resumed its walk through the garden of forking paths; Albus knew that it would be fruitless to call after it now.

He picked a Pear Drop from one of the pockets and settled under the gallery of statues of the Endless. He could probably afford himself a moment's respite, he decided: after all, he would leave the garden of Destiny where and when he must leave it–

His eyes settled on the statue of Dream. There had been those who had claimed that Dream – the previous Dream – had eventually killed his only son out of a sense of duty; or, as some said, a misguided sense of duty–

Albus had never known this for sure either way, and had not even endeavoured to ascertain this; the affairs of the Endless were always their own, and not for mortals to meddle with. But as he sat in the deadly stillness of Destiny's garden, he suddenly realised a simple truth: Destiny had only spoken of the fact, not of the motive behind the fact. What this would turn out to be, Albus did not yet know–

----

And somewhere else in the garden, a gentle breeze fluttered the pages of Destiny's book; and, in the dim red light of the dying sun, the eldest of the Endless read–

"Severus... please..."