Chapter 6: Only Time Will Tell
There was a knock on the door, and Albus Dumbledore smiled to himself as he looked up from a Muggle magazine about knitting patterns. He didn't need to be a Seer to know that it was Minerva, coming to discuss the first year students attending Hogwarts this year no doubt.
"Enter," he said pleasantly, and he was not disappointed in the least to see that it was Minerva McGonagall who opened the door, looking quite as strict and professional as ever. She strode across the office with a roll of parchment in her hands.
"Here is a list of the new students for this year, Albus," she said briskly, brandishing the list as she spoke.
"Ah, yes, I do believe I was expecting that list right about now," Albus answered, laying down his magazine. "Excellent. Do sit down, Minerva. I could draw you up a chair—?"
"No need," she answered, as she conjured up er own. She sat down after she handed him the neatly written list.
"Thank you," he said, and then gestured to the candy dish on his desk. "Would you like a lemon drop?"
"Headmaster, for the hundredth time…" she started, but Dumbledore merely chuckled.
"Very well, but perhaps you ought to consider delving into the world of sweets and finding a favorite for yourself sometime."
Minerva rolled her eyes, but sat patiently without saying a word.
At last, Dumbledore finished reading through the list, and after a moment looked back up at her. "Well, everything seems to be in order. And I expected no less from you Minerva. You will see that the owls are sent out later today?"
She nodded, "Of course, Headmaster."
He looked down the list again. "Another Weasley this year," he observed with a smile.
Minerva's mouth thinned noticeably. "Yes, and I hope, for Argus' sake, that this one does have a tendency for rule breaking as the twins have."
Albus resisted the urge to laugh at the thought of all that Fred and George Weasley had got up to in the past two years. Those two could've easily giving James Potter and Sirius Black a run for their money.
Speaking of Potter…
He handed back the list and asked, "Was there anything else you wanted to say while we're here?"
She nodded again, this time even more briskly, and tapped a name on the list. "We really ought to discuss this, Albus."
"Oh, I see. You have a problem with the boy already?"
"It's not that!" she answered sharply, and Albus noticed with some amusement that her nostrils flared slightly. "It's just that—well—you can't just leave it at that, Albus! He'll be famous here, and he doesn't even know it yet does he? You said so yourself nearly ten years ago that it would be enough to turn any boy's head. How do you know that it not turn his head now?"
"Minerva, he may only be eleven, but he will be ready to face such a situation now than he would have been if I had some Wizarding family take him in. I am prepared to admit that his head may yet be turned by the fact that everybody in our world knows his name. However, as neither of us can see the future, we must wait until the boy arrives before passing judgment."
"But Albus—I sure that you must've read the paper this morning!"
The corners of Albus' mouth twitched again. "Yes, I enjoyed the article that Rita Skeeter wrote. On how my age is starting to effect the way I think."
"Albus!"
He sighed, and reached up to stroke the handsome phoenix who had fluttered over onto his knee. "I did read the story on the front page as well."
"And?" Minerva's eyebrows edged closer together as she looked at him.
"And I think that it would be best if young Harry never see it. Whatever happen to him here is none of the wizarding community's business. I have also had a word with Cornelius about discouraging any presence of the press here for the next few years."
The transfiguration professor's blinked in surprise. "The press has never had much presence at Hogwarts, Albus."
Albus looked over his spectacles at her. "Given the article this morning, you surely realize that they have a sudden increase of interest in Hogwarts this year. Or at least, in one of its newest students. But I suspect it will pass within a fortnight."
"Oh?"
"Yes, Minerva, I have a bad feeling that something terrible is about to happen this year and we have to be ready for anything." He smiled grimly, and could have sworn that the thin line of Minerva's mouth started to tremble.
But at the next moment she rolled up the list and said, "Well, I shall see that the owls are sent out. I have learnt to never doubt your intentions, but I pray that you are wrong this time. And also, Hagrid volunteered to take care of delivering the letter to Harry Potter." Minerva looked as though she questioned the judgment of this.
It didn't take much imagination for Albus to envision the half-giant gamekeeper begging to be allowed the honor of delivering Harry Potter his school letter and taking him to Diagon Alley. Hagrid had, after all, been a great friend to Harry's parents, both during James and Lily's Hogwarts years and after. Albus cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure that won't be too much trouble to arrange. I'd better warn him that there might be some trouble getting to Harry, though. And I know that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley will not take kindly to his presence."
Minerva nodded, got up, and started towards the door, before hesitating and turning back. "I assume," she said in a restrained voice, "That you have had trouble finding another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this term?"
Albus nodded wearily. "I cannot lie that this is getting to be very troublesome. We haven't been able to keep a teacher for that post in years. And after the particular bad accident to the last professor…"
"How is he by the way?" Minerva interrupted.
"Oh, I'm afraid that he'll be in St. Mungo's for quite some time. He still thinks that he's a rooster."
He sighed as he opened his magazine again.
"But you have found someone?"
"Yes, out of the two applicants, I thought Quirenius Quirrell would be the most suitable. After he finishing some affairs, he should arrive here a week before the start of term."
Minerva raised her eyebrows. "Do I happen to know the other applicant?"
The headmaster sighed again. "You might."
"Severus applied again, didn't he?" Minerva asked in an exasperated voice.
"When hasn't he? Now, if you please excuse me, I'm expecting a call from Cornelius any moment. He had something else to discuss about young Harry."
"Fudge again? Honestly, he was always hopeless in school. How he became minster I'll never know." Minerva bowed her head, and then showed herself out.
Albus got up and walked over to look out at the grounds through the sunlit windows behind his desk. He ran a hand over his face for a moment, trying to think. There were so many complications with the idea of Harry Potter attending Hogwarts that he was having trouble keeping up. He had barely managed to talk Cornelius out of personally introducing himself to the boy and taking him school shopping. No, it would be better that Hagrid do it. If Harry was anything like his parents, then the two were sure to get on quickly.
But more worrying at the moment were the rumors that Kingsley Shacklebolt had brought back from his trip to Albania. It appeared that there was some sort of dark magic in one of the larger forests that was causing him some worry. The ministry had dismissed it immediately, of course, after a group of Aurors that personally went to go and check it out to find no traces of Dark magic.
Albus was having second thoughts. He couldn't be sure that Voldemort had hidden himself in Albania, but he had his suspicions. He had always suspected that Tom had not died off the night he underestimated little Harry Potter. No, he knew that Tom Riddle was still alive… too weak to carry on, but still a threat nonetheless. He knew that he would return one day.
Fawkes sang a few notes for him, perhaps scolding him for worrying, and flapped onto his shoulder, so that he could be stroked again.
Albus sighed, stroking the bird's back absent-mindedly, still staring out of the window. Well, the wizarding world had enjoyed 10 years from dark magic and wizards, he supposed. Ever since that devastating Halloween, there had been the nasty clean-up work for about a year, but afterwards, the everyone had functioned for quite some time without so much as a hiccup as far as dark magic was concerned.
There so many people who believed that this peace would last forever…
Peace…
Peace is a dangerous thing. It is addictive. We crave it and refuse to see the lack of it when troubles arise. Preferring to look away. Ignoring the problem rather than confronting it. Which was sure to cause problems in the near future.
While he couldn't see the future, and was absolutely certain that he harbored no gift for Divination, Albus couldn't help feeling a vague worry when he thought about the coming year. Harry Potter coming back to the wizarding world at last…
It was very exciting, but Albus knew from long experience that great good and great evil went hand in hand. Good and evil exist in everybody; that is the way of human nature. It makes him wonder where the good that was in Riddle had gone and why things had to turn out this way.
Fawkes gave a more insistent note, and Albus returned to his desk, only glancing at the cover page of his newspaper before turning back to the knitting patterns.
When Albus Dumbledore looked up from his magazine again, it was to see a head in the fireplace. However, it was not the Minister of Magic as he had expected. Albus immediately got up from his ornate desk chair to crouch down by the hearth, smiling at the sight of his old friend.
"Good evening, Nicholas. What a lovely surprise, I can't even remember the last time we talked face to face."
"'ello, Albus. Thought any more about getting that beard cut?" The face of the young man in the fire grinned cheekily up at him. "Come on, mate. That whole 'beard fashion' is almost as old as I am. Just shave it all off."
"I have indeed thought about it, but you know very well that it always grows back so quickly—what's the point? But have you thought any more about perhaps allowing yourself to gain some wrinkles?"
The head in the fire tipped slightly to one side, as though to shrug, "Perenelle likes me young and fit. And what can I say? I rather like her better young, too. No, we're both still very happy with the whole situation, as hard as you might find that to believe."
Dumbledore made a vague noise, and the head in the fire raised its eyebrows.
"You know, the offer still stands, Albus. After all, I remember you saying once that you would like to be young again."
"I prefer to let nature take its course, Nicholas. Although, I have to admit that there are plenty of days that I wish to be just a few years younger."
The head gave what might have been another shrug. "Knew you'd say that. But you know, if you ever change your mind…"
"No thank you," Dumbledore finished. "As I told you before, I still don't see the appeal of immortality. Don't you ever get tired of the cares of the world?"
"Yeah, well, we ignore them for the most part. We try to keep ourselves busy," The face grinned up at him again, "We've been thinking about taking Muggle sky-diving classes. But anyway, on a related subject, I was calling for something else."
"Something else to do with a particular stone hidden in a certain Gringotts vault?"
"Oh, good. You already know. Now, look, I know you don't set much store by rumors, but—"
"It depends upon the rumor, Nicholas."
"Right. Well, it's been a few short years since we had anything really nasty to deal with in the way of Dark magic, hasn't it? I can't explain it… but I have a bad feeling that someone is trying to steal the stone."
Albus smiled. It was always this way with Nicholas. He never beats around the bush—he preferred to get to the point. "You think someone's after your stone, do you? If you'll forgive me for saying so, you are rather paranoid about that little rock, Nicholas."
Nicholas's voice was suddenly less carefree. "Look, Dumbledore, it's all very well for you to say nature should take its course, but given my age I'll probably drop down dead the minute I stop taking the Elixir. So yes, call me paranoid."
"Naturally, Nicholas, naturally. But what evidence do you have that someone is after it?"
"Someone offered to buy it from me the other day."
"Yes, Nicholas, I believe there are a great many people who would offer to buy it if they knew you possessed it," Albus said, trying not to sound impatient.
"Yeah, but you weren't there. I know a hidden threat when I hear one."
Albus frowned at this. "Who was it exactly that offered to buy it?"
"That's the problem. I never saw his face. He kept his hood well up, even though I invited him into the house, and we sat down to talk and everything."
"How rude," Albus said, trying not to smile at the outrage in his friend's voice.
"Yeah, I thought so," Nicholas said seriously. "Anyway, he grew very agitated when I refused. And he wouldn't say anything when I asked where he got the information that I had it. Then, when he found out why I take the Elixir, he tried to get me to believe he would keep me supplied with it for the rest of eternity. As if I would believe something like that."
"You know, Nicholas, sometimes I wonder at how quickly you jump to conclusions. You almost sound like some of my students."
"You're getting off topic, Dumbledore."
"And you're taking a long time in getting to the point, Flamel."
The head in the fire nodded. "Fair enough. Albus, I want to ask you something. This is my favor of a lifetime… will you to keep the stone at Hogwarts this year? Just for safekeeping. I always did say your school is the safest place to keep anything on earth."
Albus hesitated for a moment. "I don't know, Nicholas…" he said slowly. "If your suspicions are indeed correct, and there is someone after the stone, then they will be sure to come here. And I'm afraid I cannot risk the safety of my students."
"I know, Albus. I don't mean to put anyone in danger because of me, but imagine what would happen if the stone fell into the wrong hands? I would protect it myself if I could, but the most I can do is leave it at Gringotts, and I just have a bad feeling about that right now."
Albus considered this for a long moment. Then he nodded gravely. "Very well, Nicholas. I will keep the stone here for a while, but not permanently. You have a year, and then you will have to find something else to do with it."
Nicholas broke into a large grin. "Excellent. I'll send you an owl with a letter to give to the Gringotts goblins. I'll make sure they know you're to get it."
"I'll send Hagrid with a note to get it. He'll be taking care of another errand at the moment, and it will be easiest to do both things at once."
"Right. Well, I'll be in touch, Albus. Thanks again." And with those parting words, the head of Nicholas Flamel disappeared from Dumbledore's office fire.
Albus had hardly sat back down in his chair when a second head appeared in the fire, clearing its throat to get Dumbledore's attention.
"Ah, good morning, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied, beginning to think that he wasn't going to be able to finish his magazine until next week, crouching down by the grate once more. "How are you this fine day?"
"Not bad, not bad at all Dumbledore," Fudge answered. "And—er—yourself?"
"Never better. I was just thinking it would be an excellent day to take a walk around the lake. But I believe you had some further questions for me, Cornelius?"
"Yes. Well—" The rather haughty man seemed to hesitate. "It's just—are you quite certain that it wouldn't be best if I were to—"
"Cornelius, I do not think it would be the best idea for you to introduce yourself to Harry Potter. I'm sure you will eventually be given the opportunity to meet him, but I would prefer to have one of my staff show him around Diagon Alley."
"Oh, very well," Fudge said irritably. Albus could tell he was quite put out, and had rather hoped that he would have change his mind through this visit.
"About that story in the papers, Cornelius," Albus began in an offhand voice.
The head in the fire rolled its eyes. "Not you as well, Dumbledore. I've already had to tell about fifteen different people that I had nothing to do with it. I had no idea they were even thinking of putting out an article."
He frowned, "I may have to keep a closer watch on the Prophet in the future, if this mess is anything to go by," he mused. "I've got a major debate on my hands, you know that, Dumbledore? There are people who are convinced that he's a hero and should have a proper hero's welcome back into the wizarding world, and then there are those few people who think he's not significant at all, because it all happened such a long time ago."
"Only time will tell, Cornelius," Albus said gravely. "In the meantime, I believe that we should try to move on and deal with what we must."
Fudge sighed, "Yes, well, I can only hope that the best rumors prove true."
"I can assure you I'll keep a close eye on him, Cornelius."
"Yes, and I'd appreciate it if you kept me informed, Dumbledore. Well, about that latest member on the Wizengamot…"
The interview did not last longer than ten minutes, and then Dumbledore bid the Minister farewell and went back to his magazine at last. After finally finishing it, he gazed out of the window again. Just one more month, and the boy would be here. Albus hoped Cornelius's—and everyone else's—optimism proved to be on target. Retrieving his pensieve, he listened once again to the prophecy that had led to his doubts of Voldemort's death. He said so before that he was no Seer. He had no idea what the future held.
But he knew that Lord Voldemort would return one day. He could only hope that it won't be for a long, long time. Only time would tell.
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