The Dungeon Bat confined me to my bedroom. I was bathed, dressed in pajamas, given my dinner in my room, and feeling thoroughly fed up with it all by the time Poppy came and declared me Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
Minerva entered soon after and in turn declared me overly dramatic when she saw Lockhart's gift which I had dug out from under the bed for her inspection. She waved her wand over it to appease me, and when a pink light flowed through the box, she told me, "See? It's just a toy." As if I should know what she had done. Some days I truly hated non-verbal magic. They started teaching it in year six, and the only spells I ever heard were those of the younger students practicing Leviosa-LevioSA or throwing a Jelly-Legs Jinx, and the odd urgent shout from Severus when he was saving my hide.
She also wanted to know if I was trying to kill myself. Why else would I knowingly jump into the Floo like that?
I was getting tired of everyone hammering on it. Fine, I admit it, I tried the Floo because Percy had been my only teacher on the subject months ago, and half of his conversation was 'you should really start asking your dad these things'. He had made it sound dangerous, sure, but not deadly. I felt stupid about it now, it's not as if I had wanted to die! That wasn't something I was prepared to tell them, so I stuck to my guns that I considered my mental age to be a mitigating factor to my physical in the dangers of underage Floo travel, and that I might even know better than them if it came to that. Wasn't I nearly three times older than any of them? This did not go down well with her AT ALL. Her scolding was EPIC. At one point Snape entered only to turn sharply on his heels back out. That settled it, the man was truly beyond upset if he did not feel up to defending me. On her way out she spent some time on Severus, questioning why he hadn't placed toddler safety spells on his Floo, she would have thought at least one of us had sense!
"Poppy, he's more concerned with missing his birthday than the fact that he could have died!" Severus complained to the Mediwitch. I hunched down behind the living room door and strained to listen. Minerva had left already, probably feeling her job done when she managed to make me cry, but Severus had asked Poppy to stay behind.
"That's quite natural for his age—"
"One hundred and twelve?"
"You're the only one that still clings to that age, Severus. It is time that you face it, Albus hasn't acted adult in months," Poppy said.
That's not true! Just today I used the word mitigating! Not even one hour ago! I would have stomped my foot at this, it was totally a foot stomp type of nonsense, but I feared giving my listening spot away.
"He has his adult moments, Poppy, you are not living with him," said Severus, thereby redeeming himself in my eyes. "Though I doubt that will persist now that his magic is starting, he is already acting out with that doll."
Oh, unfair.
"It's only natural for him to be agitated at this time, give his magic a month or so to settle and it will pass," Poppy said placidly. "Your role as a parent is to provide him with a calm environment. If you won't get upset he won't and it will all settle faster. Why don't you just take the doll away if it bothers him that much?"
"I was expected to control myself at his age or else, and I don't see why he should be spoiled. It's not as if it's his first time gaining accidental magic."
"It's exactly as if it's his first time. You can't expect him to remember his childhood after more than a century. I barely remember mine. I'm sorry to say this," she lowered her voice and I pressed my ear against the door. It sounded as if she told Severus his mother had been wrong. Oh, that's not good. I tried that once. Telling Severus anything about his mother was just looking for trouble. The man had been livid and had kept himself secluded in his office for the rest of that day. This will definitely be the end of their conversation and I wisely left them to it, scarpering back to my room.
'Chucky' stood propped against my bed where Minerva had left him, the redheaded menace still safely tied into his box, the seal on the flap unbroken. According to Minerva I was projecting my fears on the doll. It did indeed look like any other plastic doll I'd ever seen and it's true, I had been half asleep when I saw his eyes glow. She also said my accidental magic might be the reason it had done so if it ever had, and suggested I call him something other than Chucky to set my own mind at ease—yes, she had seen the film and it was: "Ridiculous nonsense. Really, Albus, I thought you would have more sense."
Even so, I took the box and this time I put it in my closet, stuffing it on top of my other toys, apologising to them for having to share with Satan's spawn. I had just closed the door when Snape entered after a sharp knock. He pointed me back to my bed with his detention face on. "Sit down, Albus, we need to talk."
"You would have died," said Snape after I obeyed, sitting himself down on the edge of my bed. "Not could have."
"How do you know?"
His face twisted. I could practically see the sharp 'How do you not?' burn on his tongue, but he was a stronger man than I. "Years of studies on wizarding experience and mishaps with Floo travel," he said. "You should know it also, you were the one that adjusted the castle's Floos when we needed to." He watched me with an inscrutable emotion on his face. Damn, if this was true then I might have just given myself away. Time to fall back on the old standby.
"I don't remember that," I said, opening my eyes wide and innocent, projecting Bambi.
"I see that. There seems to be a lot of things you don't remember."
He stilled, waiting for something, what exactly I didn't know. He sometimes did this, and it was extremely frustrating not knowing what he wanted from me. After a while I shrugged uselessly. I needed this to end already.
"I'm adding another week to your punishment," he said at last.
"What?! No! You can't punish me for something I didn't remember!"
"I can accept you didn't know you would die, Albus, but were you or were you not aware that the Floo was unsafe unless someone carried you."
I was. I hid myself with a groan under the covers. He dug me out and made me answer him properly, not going for half-measures today.
"I'm adding another week to your punishment," he repeated.
"But that means I'll be grounded on my birthday…"
"Yes."
Oh. I swallowed back the threatening tears. That's so unfair. "Will I still have my party?"
Snape hesitated. "Yes, you will have your party. I don't believe kids should be punished on their birthdays so you'll be exempt on that day," he echoed my thoughts, but before I could become too happy, he continued. "We will add that day to the end." He paused and visibly gathered himself. Oh God, we were not finished yet? "You need to stop biting people, this type of behaviour is completely unacceptable… "
By the time he was done with his talk I felt suitably chastised and had cried enough sorry tears into his handkerchief to build a dam. I was getting tired of all this crying and honestly hoped five-year-olds had a better handle on their emotions.
"You'll stay in your room until bedtime, at least you can come to no harm here," Snape ordered before he left. The door closed with a sharp snap behind him, and blessed silence descended in my bedroom. I fell with a groan back on my pillows. What a horrible day. If I never saw any of their faces again it would be too soon.
In the closet something rustled.
When the monster was in your closet you hide under the bed. It was that easy. I took myself, my pillow, my duvet cover and the round night light from my bed stand and dove for safety. My plan to occupy myself with the book that had fallen in there earlier the week failed miserably as I only found dust. Severus must have tidied up again. It necessitated me going back out to grab Gadding with Ghouls which I was still busy with, a trip to the bookcase that passed the now suspiciously quiet closet. Keeping one eye on its door I made it to the bookcase and back without breathing.
Ghouls were supposedly harmless creatures that lived in people's attics and banged on pipes. The ones Gilderoy had found in Guam were the stuff of nightmares, spirits that robbed graves and fed on dead bodies. He spent a month stranded on an island with a couple of other wizards and witches, all supposedly terrified out of their wits and hanging onto him as their designated saviour. The book contained a multitude of unnecessary pictures, every last one of him in various fashionable outfits mugging for the camera with out of focus forest scenes behind him. It was extremely telling that there was not one ghoul or wizard or recognizable building to be seen. The story though was fascinating and I completely got why it was a bestseller. He had me hanging on every word and by the last chapter I could swear it was all in vain, that he and the other people were going to be ghoul toast, even though the damn man was walking the halls of Hogwarts this very moment. The hand grabbing my ankle could not have come at a worse time. I screamed loud enough to raise the dead and reared up.
Something hard hit the back of my head, black spots danced in front of my eyes, and the world whirled. When it stilled I found myself outside my bedroom in an unfamiliar place, lying flat on my back, staring up at a blurry white expanse of nothing.
This was not good.
I adjusted my glasses, the metal feeling whispy and unreal in my grip, but still I made a good effort to wipe it on my similarly ethereal pajama shirt before putting it back. Nothing changed.
It was not good at all.
The back of my head throbbed something fierce, making it hard to think. Oh God, the doll had killed me! I told them it would happen! I hope they are sorry now!
"You are not dead," someone said.
Dreaming then.
"Not dreaming," the voice answered. He didn't sound like anyone I've met, yet his deep voice had a familiar ring to it.
"Are you reading my mind?"
"Maybe." Dumbledore bent over me, and his brilliant blue eyes glittered down to me from behind familiar gold rimmed glasses. For the tall, thin man could only be him. The long silver beard was unforgettable, and I saw the same eyes every morning when I washed my face. "So, we finally meet." He smiled benignly. "Fine mess you're making of my life, little one."
Mess! I personally thought I was doing the best I could. "I'm not little," I protested, deciding not to apologise for the beard or the mess if he was just going to complain.
"Is that so? You certainly look tiny. Why don't you show me the real you then. Let's have a look."
Oh it's on, grandpa. I scrambled up. It was a strange request in a strange place and I had no clue why I bothered, but I tried anyway, concentrating with all my might. Nothing happened. Fuck. Not one to give up I tried until my headache bloomed behind my eyes, but even with all that effort I could barely picture my former self.
A tall, ornate silver mirror appeared in front of me, showing a dark haired, blue eyed preschooler in pajamas. I really did need a haircut. Dumbledore laughed at me.
"Why can't I change back, have you done something to me?"
"I have not. Have you considered that this might be the real you?"
"A five year old child?" I scoffed. "That was an accident from your bloody potion."
"Which you added quite a few things to." He waved his wrinkled hand, dismissing it. "Are you so sure it was an accident?" Fawkes appeared on his shoulder and I stumbled back, falling flat on my ass.
"You did this?!"
"I did not."
"Then who!"
"You did this to yourself with a little help from our Universe. I believe that for the first time in your life you are exactly where you should be."
A toddler stuck in a family built on lies? "I am not."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not!"
"Yes, you—"
"What are you, three?" I snapped at Dumbledore. "Stop that."
He laughed again, the sound echoing strangely in the empty space.
Not dead and not a dream… "Ugh. Let me guess. You are a figment of my imagination."
"No, this is me. I thought it's high time we had a little talk."
"I've had enough talks today to last me a lifetime. No thanks."
"About your little aborted trip through the Floo? Yes, I saw that. Fine way to kill us, if that's what you wanted to do, have you not learned anything yet?"
More important than another person scolding me was the fact that he had seen that. It filled me with horror and my voice sounded shrill in the huge cavern. What else had he seen? "Are you watching me?!"
He shrugged. "A part of my soul is still attached to yours. Certainly not by choice, believe me. I personally would be happy to move on, unlike some."
Fuck. Are you in my thoughts? I'm sorry, you would be slow too with this headache.
"Yes, I am."
"So you're dead? Did I kill you?"
"I am dead, yes, but you did not kill me, from what I understood your soul saw an opening and took it. Interesting world you come from, I find it hard to imagine people being able to get a new beginning in books—"
"How did you die?" I did not have time for ramblings on my old world. It is the new one I was concerned about.
"Hm, impatient, are you? I had a heart attack, Poppy would say it's all the sweets, you might want to calm down on them yourself. Be that as it may, you inserting into me saved the students from quite a distressing sight, thank you, little one."
Oh. Well that was a relief, I had spent my time feeling guilty for nothing it seems. "Stop calling me that it's creepy," I snapped. "Why am I here?" Here, I saw now, was King's Cross train station, the surroundings becoming cleared by the moment. Why did this feel so familiar?
"I thought it was high time we met. Would you like some tea?" A table with a large silver tea set and comfortable armchairs appeared a short way off.
"No," I was starting to feel ill, and I could barely think to make sense past the headache. "I want to go home."
"Are you sure? They make particularly lovely Angel cake here," he said, and a cake stand appeared on the table, filled to the brim with delicacies. I wavered at that and he laughed. "A little joke, forgive me. Home. I can make that happen," he nodded and twinkled down at me, smiling behind his long, shiny beard. "Where is home? Your world?"
"What? If you're in my mind then you know home is Hogwarts. Severus is going to blow his shit if he can't find me. Say what you need to say and let me go."
"It's already been said. Take care and stay out of trouble!"
The building started dissolving around us and Dumbledore faded with it.
"What! What was said! You said nothing!"
"Go home."
It's not as if I had a choice, something was already tugging me away. Asshole that thought he knew everything. What did he mean I was where I was meant to be. Oh, I was an idiot—he knew everything! "No, wait! Where's the diary!"
"What diary?" Severus asked beside me.
"I don't know," I moaned—because by now I felt like moaning was definitely necessary—and looked disoriented at my blurry surroundings. I was flat on my back again, this time on something softer, but my head still hurt and I might sick up any moment, why was he asking me about diaries right now? "I don't even know if there is one, there should be one but I haven't found it yet!"
"The diary? Is this what all your fuss had been about?"
Ah damn. I was going to give myself away. Imagination or not, better change the topic quickly. "I met Dumbledore."
"Yes? Where is he?"
I narrowed my eyes to bring Severus's vague, blurry form next to me into focus. "You won't believe me that Chucky is evil but 'I met Dumbledore' does it for you?"
"Both Minerva and I tested the doll," Severus answered. "There's nothing wrong with it except in your imagination." He reached out and put my glasses in my hand, the metal cold, hard and real. Oh. "Tell me more about Dumbledore," Snape said.
Oh.