Sorry For taking so long! I took a bit of a sabbatical. So I promise to update every week from now on, if I dont follow with that promise you guys can flood me with comments all you want. Your constant love and support really encourages me to write as much as I can about this story. Thank you so much!
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The skies noticeably turned into a vehement shade of grey in the time that Albus Dumbledore spent on the balcony of the Astronomy Tower, contemplating.
Albus has always considered himself to be a man of unquestionable intellectual caliber. His many years were spent cultivating his penchant for wisdom; seeking knowledge about the strangest and most uncertain of things, experimenting upon the premise of his findings, and plotting how it may assist him in his road to advocating the 'greater good'. Although, Albus more than anyone knows that those who zealously pursue knowledge can easily be blinded and deafened by the astute temptation of power. Admittedly, his greatest flaw was that he realized the truth of that statement when it was too late; and his greatest regret is that many had to be sacrificed before he was able to.
A braver man than Albus Dumbledore would have subjected himself to the grief within the flames of explicit penance; but instead, the wizard's cowardice led him to settle for a lesser life- a life that is dependent on the fact that his tumultuous past remain a secret.
For many years, this particular sorrow has continued to haunt Albus -which is why, he often cannot comprehend why the people still view him as a symbol of hope.
But now, Albus realizes, is not the time to ponder on sorrows and doubts.
Never has contempt protruded his mind like it was doing at this very moment; gnawing at his remaining rationality, demanding attention. He raised his bright blue eyes, leveling them with the heavens, and let them wonder in silence as the vast canvass reflected what was happening to its earthly parallel.
Whispers of grotesqueries reached his ears and their numbers increased significantly everyday. Many lives, both magical and non-magical alike, were being uprooted, destroyed, and ended. And yet, because of the Ministry's almost comical insistence that these were merely 'common' disturbances, the people of both societies weren't as cautious and prepared as they ought to be.
A colored silhouette appeared in the dark horizon; and as it advanced, the figure of a large tawny owl materialized. It circled the tower once before settling itself on the shoulder of the tower's sole occupant.
Albus slowly caressed the serene animal with his one hand and used the other to remove the small roll of parchment attached to one of its legs. The wizard smiled in gratitude then the owl set off with a series of hoots, pleased at his success.
Despite his less than favorable views towards the subject of divination, Albus was well aware of what lay encased within the parchment. Regardless, he opened it with as much haste as he would with any other letter- possibly even more. As his slightly trembling fingers slowly revealed the missive, a groan escaped the old man's lips.
The writing in the parchment had explained that another member of the Order of the Pheonix was murdered. Albus was not sure of who opted to send him the message but he was decisively convinced that the earlier article in the muggle paper about two families of five being massacred was not due to an accidentall gas leak but an indoubtedly intentional killing curse.
Contrary to what many believe, Albus was a fearing man. The legendary battle between him and Gellert Grindelwald was not a valiant display of superior skill- nor was it a simple contest between two wizards of immense magical capability. Their surrounding history prevented them from ever basking in such uncomplicated niceties- Grindelwald feared Albus as much as Albus feared him.
But the gravity of his previous sins could not compare to the reality of the present. Albus had never felt fear as potent as the fear that he was feeling now.
He heaved a long sigh, the imminent threat of Tom Riddle was becoming more and more tangible.
Previously, many would marvel upon this handsome boy and be so emboldened with the courage to scream praises of prestige; ensuring all those who would dare to listen that he would move on to do great things.
Similar to how he was praised in his youth, Albus deduces.
He kept watch over Riddle, well aware of how simple praises can morph into silent corruption. He refused to favor him like how his other teachers did, hoping that this small bout of humility might decrease his chances of wrongly taking the path of mistakes that Albus did. But with all his propensity to nobly preach about love, he realizes that maybe his refusal to care for the boy was what prompted the rise of 'Lord Voldemort' in the first place.
Born without love, raised without Love, and now- conquering all of Britain without love, or even mercy- Lord Voldemort has now established himself to be a paragon of a powerful yet lifeless existence; existing but not living.
Albus is yet to face him. Tom's slow return from self-imposed exile is a homology of a ticking time bomb. The aforementioned pretentious but taciturn murder was nothing but a warning for the headmaster of Hogwarts.
I will come Albus Dumbledore, and I am inevitable.
The grounds of the school were solemn. Only the minute sounds of creatures and students frolicking about could be heard from Albus's view in the Astronomy Tower. He reveled in these few earnest moments; his eyes shifting from laughing student to a student being given detention, from the Hagrid harvesting pumpkins by his hut to the vast expanse of the dark and somber Forbidden Forest.
All of this, the genial picture of serenity, could soon be an ephemera.
It was time for Albus to act- for the warning was correct, Lord Voldemort is inevitable.