Something changed after their talk in the Quidditch pitch. What, Harry didn't quite know, but Harry found it easier to talk to the boy. Easier to laugh at his antics or to roll his eyes whenever the boy was harassing him with his homework or talk with him about alchemy again.

Sometimes, Harry wondered if that was because there wasn't this whole time travel mess between them. Harry was not the Boy-Who-Lived, nor was he the time-traveller. And Albus was not the greatest wizard of modern time. He was not Hogwart's headmaster nor the only man Voldemort has ever feared, he was just a bright if sometimes annoying Fifth Year. Harry was just Harry, and Albus was just Albus. Sometimes, it felt like an entire century had separated them and now that it was gone they could finally look at each other eye to eye.

Unless Harry was overthinking it.

Albus took a Bertie bean in the box between them and, without looking at it, promptly ate it. He wrinkled his long nose and made a face.

"What flavour?" Harry asked.

Albus swallowed. "Spinach. Not my favourite, I admit. I suppose you can't get lucky all the time. Want one?"

Harry shrugged and took the box. After carefully looking at each coloured sweet, he settled for a pink one he put in his mouth.

"So?"

Harry swallowed. "Bubble gum."

Albus blinked and smiled. "You're very lucky then. This is among the rarest and is to my opinion the best flavour. To be honest, I'm slightly jealous."

Harry shrugged. "You proposed."

"Yes, I supposed I did," he mused as Harry started looking at his notes for the oncoming OWL exams.

After the whole drama about Albus forgetting he was a time traveller had come the realization Harry was definitely going to sit these bloody OWLs. Harry had groaned at this but, he had tried to think, it wasn't as if he hadn't prepared for this for two entire years. And, having sat his OWLs in his time, the task ahead didn't seem as daunting as it had been the first time.

The only real course he was really wary of was Divination.

Professor Mesmer had been very clear on the subject. While the seer was willing to help him, he also liked getting paid for his work and would rather explain some important concepts in class than work pro bono. And one thing for example Mesmer had categorically refused to explain had been prophecies. No matter how much Harry had tried to get any information on them, if only to understand the ones the Trelawneys have made, the man had refused.

Prophecies, it seemed, were to Mesmer a very serious and very dangerous business. Far more than actual time travel apparently, and it hadn't helped that Harry had refused to explain why he was so interested in them.

So, if Harry wanted to learn more, he'd have to be learning Divination up to his last year at Hogwarts. Only then would Harry be deemed worthy. And if Harry wanted Mesmer to accept him in his NEWT classes, he needed to get an Outstanding.

"You should be alright," Albus remarked once he talked about their OWLs. "Considering how much you've worked this year. I wouldn't be surprised if you've got at minimum four Os."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that. "Four?"

He nodded. "Defence Against the Dark Arts is a given, I believe. And I have little doubt you will do splendidly in Transfiguration, Charms and even Potions."

Harry couldn't stop a smile at that. Considering how hard Albus had been making him work on these three courses, he sure as hell hoped the boy was right.

"As for the other courses, while I cannot guarantee you this sort of mark as certainly as I do the others, the worst you should be facing is an Acceptable in History of magic."

Harry shrugged. "I hope you're right."

If Harry got better marks in the nineteenth century than he did in the twentieth, Harry wondered if Professor Dumbledore would let him keep the best marks.

Probably.

Albus nodded and put his bag on the table to retrieve a book on what seemed to be alchemy.

"I would even dare to say you would be accepted in alchemy should you wish to pick this course next year."

Whenever alchemy was mentioned, Harry couldn't help thinking about his First Year. "I think I'll pass. I mean, what can alchemy actually do if nobody but Flamel can make the philosopher stone?"

"Oh, quite a lot of things," Albus replied as he posed the book on the table. "The impossible, for example. Alchemy in many ways allows one to bend the laws of the universe and succeed in doing the seemingly impossible."

Harry stilled. "You can do things that are usually magically impossible," he slowly repeated.

Dumbledore slowly nodded, a sly smile on his face. "There is quite a lot we still do not know on this magical art, and I think-"

But Harry was listening anymore.

Mesmer's lessons were useful, but they were also very theoretical. When the man wasn't explaining the current political landscape and explaining that, no, Ireland is not a republic here and don't ever say such terrible prediction near any politician or how to bullshit his way out, he was explaining very complicated philosophical concepts that often left Harry with a terrible headache. So even if Harry could potentially have a lead in finding a way home, he had to admit he hadn't got a single clue in how putting it into practice.

But if alchemy could succeed in doing the seemingly impossible…

"Harry? Are you listening?"

Harry startled and dazedly blinked. "Sorry. I just-" He shook his head. "You said alchemy could break the fundamental laws of the universe?"

"I did not exactly say break, I prefer saying you bend fundamental rules we usually consider absolute. Transmutation of plain metals into gold, holding death at bay with the elixir of long life…" He shrugged and smiled. "Alchemy is a fascinating and very secretive art that transforms not only physical objects but also metaphysical concepts. The alchemist's own soul is also concerned by this transformation and it is perhaps the key behind everything."

Harry pondered the idea he's just had, wondering if this could be the missing piece to the puzzle he had to solve.

But it could also be a colossal waste of time and Harry had already lost a year.

"I know it is said to be a very complex magical art," Albus tried, "and I'm sure you will be very busy next year but I honestly believe it is doable for you to learn it should you want to study alchemy. Well, I think it will be if you put your mind into it and allow me to help you."

Harry carefully looked at Dumbledore's hopeful face and sighed. "Fine, fine. I'm in."

Albus gave a triumphant grin and Harry's lips twitched.


"I'm serious, if you need help with Charm-"

"I'm actually good at Charm," Aberforth interrupted. "And I can study just fine so don't waste your breath, Dogbreath."

Elphias Doge looked affronted for a moment. Finally, he loudly sighed as if he was making a great effort in talking to the Third Year. "I'm sure you can do it but I just want to help. I know Third Year is an important year and the new courses-"

Aberforth hid his face behind his hands and groaned.

True to his word, his brother wasn't sticking his long nose in his business anymore. However, and Aberforth wanted to curse himself for not noticing sooner, there had been another loophole in their deal.

While it was true he couldn't attempt to help him, that didn't mean Albus couldn't give sad sighs every now and then when his followers were nearby and 'confess' he was worried about his rebellious little brother wasting away his potential by being unreasonable.

So now, it was not Albus but the entire house harassing him.

Why couldn't he have a normal family? Why did he have to have manipulative siblings?

"-and if you do not perform well for your Ordinary Wizarding Level-"

"-I will not manage to choose which course I will take for my Nastily Exhausting Tests and this will hinder me for my future profession, I know!" he sharply interrupted. "Albus gives me this spiel every day, do you think I'm so stupid I cannot even remember this?"

Elphias stopped talking and uneasily looked away.

Aberforth glared and the Fifth Year shrank.

"Why don't you try to work harder?" the older boy asked in a meek voice. "If you know this is important, then why?"

"Why should I tell you?" he tightly said. "Now get out before I decide to let you help me with cursing."

The older boy seemed to realize –finally- he wasn't going to accomplish anything and with a small apology pretended he needed to go somewhere.

Once the Fifth Year was gone, Aberforth sighed.

Truth be told, he was aware that, no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he'd never surpass Albus. That, no matter what, he'd always stay in his shadow.

So why trying? If you are going to fail no matter what, then why should you bother? Isn't it better not to care?

He remembered being eleven and admitting to his brother in a hesitant voice how much he hated being seen as 'Albus Dumbledore's brother'.

"Believe me," Albus had replied with a bitter smile, "it is better to be Albus Dumbledore's brother than Perceval Dumbledore's son."

He still regretted not punching him for that one.

Aberforth shook his head and glared at the rest of the Common Room, daring any potential challenger to just try.

When he was satisfied, he took his brown quill, looked at his still blank parchment and sighed.

He knew he actually needed help with Transfiguration, but he just couldn't let the others turn him into some charity case. Or use him just to get closer to Albus. The same way, he refused to let his brother know he actually needed his help when it came to his favourite subject and admit defeat.

He supposed that meant he'd get another bad mark.


A white dove came during one of Professor Mesmer's lessons.

"I've got to take this," he said as he took the paper on the bird's leg. Opening the letter he raised an eyebrow. "Well, I suppose this solves that."

When he put it on his table however, Harry noticed the paper was in fact blank.

"I've got to say he's sharp. And it's even better than if I had actually done something. It's even strange if you think about it for a moment." Turning to Harry he asked with a smile, "I mean, what are the odds?"

Harry blankly looked at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The seer's electric blue eyes shined in amusement. "Of course you don't. Now, what were we talking about?"

Harry tried to remember. "Eternal recurrence."

"Ah yes, eternal recurrence. Nietzsche has touched upon it but I suppose a muggle like him cannot completely get it right. Surprisingly, despite the seemingly infinite possibilities there can be history seems to have a strange habit of repeating itself, as if nothing was nothing but a circle and everything we ever did was pointless. When it comes to the big lines, a talented enough historian can go past the details and spot the repetitions. It has already happened, it will inevitably happen again. There is nothing new under the sun and the wheel of time keeps turning over and over. To the same seemingly impossible problem, the answer will remain the same. You cannot stop the wheel from finishing its rotation and the only thing we can ever hope to change is the details."

Harry frowned. "Does it really change anything? If you can't go against the recurrence, isn't it pointless then?"

Mesmer shrugged. "You tell me."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. "You said nothing was truly fixed," he finally accused.

"I did. It may seem contradictory but what are the details exactly, Mister Potter? One theory on time does not necessarily imply the other cannot also be true."

Harry slowly massaged his temples and Mesmer grimaced in sympathy.

"The characters may change, it is at its core the same story and it has the same ending. Does that help?"

"Slightly."

But only just.


"Expelliarmus!"

The Slytherin's wand fell from his hand and flew in his opponent's direction.

"Winner: Dumbledore," Professor Merrythought declared.

Arcturus Black darkly looked at his opponent and Aberforth couldn't help giving the Slytherin a smug smile.

Like all the Headmaster's children, Arcturus Black was known to be talented in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and even the Dark Arts.

So a victory against him was a clear sign that Aberforth Dumbledore was not somebody to mess with. With luck, the rest of his house might think twice before trying to annoy him now.

He was still high on his victory when Professor Merrythought asked him to stay behind and not even some of his classmates' knowing looks managed to break his mood.

"You wanted to talk to me, Professor?" he asked her.

"Yes, I do."

With a flick of her wand, the words on the blackboard vanished.

"I have to admit, your other Professors have warned me about you."

Prince no doubt. That bastard couldn't stand him and the hatred was mutual. "Did they now?"

She nodded. "I've heard as much about you as I have about your brother. And if they had nothing but praises for your brother, I confess the portrait they gave me of you was not as flattering."

Aberforth shrugged. "Hard to be, no?"

Everybody seemed to think the sun shined out of Albus' arse after all. In fact, Aberforth wouldn't be surprised to learn his brother had found a spell just for that and could now fart rainbows.

"I suppose it is," the witch acknowledged. "Still, imagine my surprise when I realized you are in fact my best student in your year."

Aberforth blinked. "I am?"

She nodded. "You are a little too impulsive to my tastes but I suppose this is normal for a boy your age. I came here expecting from what I've heard you to be my worst student, so you must imagine my surprise. Any idea what could explain this?"

It was most certainly Potter's help, Aberforth had to admit. It couldn't be said after all he was actually listening to her lecture and whatever spell he knew, it was because Potter had showed him or had explained it in a way that didn't seem as boring as she was making it be.

Aberforth decided to try a smile. "I suppose I've got a good teacher, ma'am."

Professor Merrythought gave him a look.

The smile lessened.

"Yes, it certainly seems so," she finally said. After a sigh, she shrugged and said, "I suppose it is a pity that you cannot find somebody you feel comfortable with to help you with your other subjects or I'm sure you would be a very good student."

Aberforth frowned carefully looked at her.

If he was right, the woman was implying something, but what?

"I don't really care about being a good student," he decided to say.

Professor Merrythought looked at him as if to say that point had always been very clear to her.

"In this case… What do you care about, Mister Dumbledore? If you know, you may suddenly realize there could be a very good reason for you to work hard at what first appeared to be pointless. More than anything, what truly drives you?"

Aberforth immediately thought of a little girl crying all the tears in her small body.

But he knew there was only one correct answer to give.

"No idea."


When Aberforth came in the Room of Requirement, he threw his bag on the floor.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked as he finished preparing the dummy.

"Fine and dandy," Aberforth mumbled. "Just Merrythought being annoying."

Harry blinked. "She's rather nice."

The woman was very competent and a rather good teacher. Moreover, she seemed not to mind that Harry didn't want to duel all that much and as general rule was leaving him alone. In the list of DADA teachers, she was above 'Moody' and a close second behind Professor Lupin.

It was really a pity something was going to happen to her and she would be gone next year because Harry kinda liked her.

"I think she knows about you helping me."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What makes you say that? I mean, how could she know?"

"I don't know… Maybe it's something you can see when people duel."

Harry thought about it and shrugged. "So what? There is no educational decree saying we can't learn defence here yet, right?"

"Yet?"

"Well, you never know."

Aberforth suspiciously looked at him. "Is that one of these seer things again?"

"Yep."

Harry turned to Aberforth and smiled. "In the future, learning defence will be forbidden in order to stop your brother from fomenting a coup against the Ministry of magic. And the Defence Professor will be a mole from the Ministry searching for his underground army who will train in this very room."

Aberforth blankly looked at him. He then snorted and rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. Sorry to ask."

Harry bit his tongue to stop a laugh and turned his attention back to the dummy.

He could see why Mesmer loved doing this so much. Telling the truth in such an outrageous way nobody sane would consider it could be the truth.

And Aberforth Dumbledore was his guinea pig. Not only was the boy too noisy and one of the few he was actually worried could find the truth, Harry couldn't stop enjoying seeing his face whenever he spouted something that seemed outrageous but was utterly true.

He was still proud of the one where he said he was the most famous baby in history.

"Still, I think she was implying something there. Like she said that I should- oh goddammit."

Harry looked at the Third Year. "What's wrong?"

"I think I know what she was hinting at."

"Alright then, what was it?"

But Aberforth never answered and started cursing the dummy until it exploded and the Room of Requirement conjured another.

"I'm the best student in my year in Defence," Aberforth said with a grin after Harry congratulated him.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Though," he added, "I think Albus'd prefer if I was doing better in transfiguration. You good at it?"

Harry shrugged. "I get by. I can't really say I love it really. Don't see much of a point."

That was enough to set the younger Dumbledore on a tirade that transfiguration was useless. Like, honestly, what was the point in transfiguring an owl into opera glasses? Why would he go to the opera and what had that bird done to deserve this? Worse, what kind of wizard who has enough money to go to an opera doesn't have enough to buy glasses? And if Aberforth needed a needle, he was going to buy one, not search for a matchstick to change it!

"Is there even anything that does not stink in transfiguration?" Aberforth hotly finished.

Harry knew the question wasn't actually directed at him. But Harry couldn't help saying in a soft voice, "Animagi are rather wicked, really."

Aberforth stopped and frowned. "Animagi? What's that again?"

"Wizards that can change into animals."

Aberforth snorted. "Oh, that? That's perhaps the lamest. I mean, maybe it's nice if you can fly or something big but really? That's what you think is great about transfiguration? Turning into a sticking rat?"

Harry's jaw tensed. "My father was an animagus."

Aberforth's rant stopped. "Sorry," he mumbled. After a pause, he asked, "What was he?"

"A stag." He considered casting the patronus and showing him Prongs but chose against it. "And my godfather is a dog."

A pause. "How many animagi do you know exactly?" he suspiciously asked.

"I'm not sure… Five, I think."

"Five? Isn't that supposed to be very, very difficult and very, very hard?"

Harry shrugged. "What can I say? My dad and my godfather wanted to help their friend."

It was at this moment he realized he might have said a little too much.

After much harassing and when it was clear Aberforth was not going to drop it anytime soon, Harry decided to give the boy a bone, if only to make him shut up.

"One of my dad's friends was a werewolf."

Seeing the younger Dumbledore had finally shut up, he sighed. "And they wanted to keep him company during the full moon. As the werewolf would have attacked them, they thought they would be safe if they weren't human during his transformation. So they became animagi."

Aberforth was dead silent.

"Don't tell anybody," Harry ordered. "I don't want- It's not very legal, what they did."

Although, Harry thought just as he said these words, he didn't know what damage Aberforth could do with that, considering Remus Lupin would not be born before decades.

Aberforth swallowed. "Did it work?" he asked in an unusually small voice.

Harry dazedly blinked. "What? Oh yeah. Yeah, it worked. The wolf didn't want to attack them and he felt more in control of himself. I think he even said he liked playing with them."

Deciding he had already said far too much, he decided to call it a day and, pretending he needed to talk with Albus, he left the Room of Requirement.

He never noticed the pensive look in the boy's eyes.


Aberforth might need to get better at Transfiguration.

Key word being might. Aberforth still thought transfiguration was rubbish but it was just possible there might be something useful there.

Problem was, Aberforth was actually terrible at Transfiguration and even now categorically refused to ask for Albus' or anybody's help and admit defeat.

Merrythought might have implied he should ask Potter to help him, there was something the witch hadn't understood.

Aberforth hadn't asked for help. He had been clever enough not to ask for Potter's help in Defence, he had made a trade: Defence for Occlumency. Aberforth didn't know why the Fifth Year had wanted to learn it, that was thankfully one of the few skills he was good at and he could easily trade.

But now he had used this card and needed to find a skill to use in order to bargain for Potter's help.

Aberforth considered a moment just asking the boy for a few pointers and snorted. What a stupid idea, Aberforth didn't want anybody to look down on him so he needed something to stand on equal ground.

And so Aberforth made a mental list of what he was good at.

Skill one: he knew how to take care of a herd of goats.

Not a very sellable skill, he reluctantly admitted. Though it was a goddamn useful one and one of the few things Albus was terrible at.

It took longer for the Third Year to find a second skill.

And when he did, he smirked.

He knew what he was going to do next time they'd train.


Albus was flabbergasted.

"What on earth happened to you?" he exclaimed after Harry had entered the Common Room with a bloody nose and full of bruises.

"Your brother punched me."

During tonight's lesson, Aberforth Dumbledore had welcomed him with his fist. Once Harry had sworn bloody murder, the Third Year had explained that, from his point of view, full contact was often much better than cursing as wizards were usually terrible without their wand and that Harry was pathetic at dodging and see what I did? You didn't have time to take your wand, did you?

Harry had spent his entire childhood knowing this was true and frankly hadn't needed Aberforth Dumbledore to tell him that. He had never had any illusion his cousin wouldn't manage to flat him in a second if he couldn't outrun him or use his wand.

Albus opened his mouth in shock. Finally, he said, "I'm so sorry. Here, you should sit down. Let me look at that." He cursed under his breath when he looked at Harry's nose. "Hold on," he said as his retrieved his wand, "it may tickle a little."

Albus put a hand on his cheek and waved his wand.

"I'm so sorry. Why did Aberforth even-"

"He was trying to prove a point."

Point was that when somebody was attacking him in close contact, there was little Harry could do to defend himself.

"I will be having a word with him," Albus gravelly promised. "What was he thinking honestly?"

Harry considered telling the auburn-haired that after admitting he was right, he hadn't said no to a spar which had ended up with a humiliating defeat but he remembered Aberforth had specifically ordered him not to tell his brother of this.

Harry doubted he would ever punch Voldemort in the face, but the idea of making Dudley or Malfoy bite the dust had been too tempting and he hadn't refused the Third Year's help in getting better in muggle fighting.

In exchange for a few pointers in transfiguration of course, Aberforth wasn't one to work for free.

"It's fine. He wasn't trying to hurt me. I just… Would have liked a warning."

But the prefect was agitated. "But he always do that. Why can't he-? Why does he always has to-?"

Albus sighed and Harry realized how tired he actually was.

"I don't get it," he said and Harry thought for a moment the prefect was going to cry. "The other wizards are goading him and he knows that. So why does he always fall for it? Can't he see that's what they want? To get him in trouble? Why? Why? Why? Can't he see he's ruining everything?"

Harry hesitated.

"Aberforth," Harry slowly began, "is hot-blooded. Like I am, like Ron is. So when we see an injustice, we want to fix it. And when we are wronged, we want to have our revenge."

"Revenge doesn't solve anything and is a very selfish choice that brings troubles to everybody else."

There was something very bitter in these words. As if there were more to it and Albus had been a very hurt a long time ago by somebody who wanted to make justice himself.

"Can't he see all the damage control I have to do so that everybody don't start treating him like a dangerous wizard? Can't he-" He sighed, defeated.

"I think he does," Harry said after a while. "And I think that's why he keeps doing it."

Albus removed his hand from his face and gave him an incredulous look.

"I'm sure you try your best, but you can't always be there. And as people keep messing with him, he knows they'll only stop when it will be clear you shouldn't cross him."

"That's ridiculous," Albus finally said. "If he just didn't fight back-"

"-he'll get bullied."

Albus took a pause. "If he tells me-"

"-he'll be a coward. And it's not his style."

Harry wouldn't even be surprised to learn some students would love Aberforth to go crying on his brother's shoulder. After all, harassing or going after Albus Dumbledore was pure madness. But if you wanted to cause Albus trouble, all you needed to do was to go after Aberforth.

Albus gave a long sigh. "True, very true. Aberforth would rather die than ask for help. You cannot imagine what schemes he can build sometimes in order not to ask for help."

"Really."

Albus gave him a small smile. "Really. There was that time for example when instead of asking our father to use magic and fix his toy like a normal person, he decided it would be a good idea to-"


It had been a fruitful year, Albus thought.

If he ignored one or two hitches, Albus had managed to succeed in most of the tasks he had imposed himself at the beginning of the year. And although he had to admit he had been close to a breakdown at the end of the year with everybody wanting his attention, he thought he had managed to handle his numerous responsibilities without too much problem.

All was left now, Albus thought as he spotted from the window the delegation from the Ministry of magic arriving, was their Ordinary Wizarding Levels. And even if he reasonably knew he wouldn't be facing too much hassle, he couldn't help feeling, like everybody, a little nervous at what was his first really important exam.

After all, as he had told Harry, this examination would decide their entire future and was something they will only experience once in their lifetime.