Chapter 12: After Exams

The next morning, Dilys Derwent was waiting for Albus, pacing agitatedly in her portrait. "What took you so long?" she demanded when Albus finally entered and greeted Fawkes.

Albus looked up in surprise. "Dilys, what are you doing here at this time of day? I asked you to follow Harry this week."

"He's in class don't worry. But never mind that now, we have an emergency!" Dilys exclaimed. "Last night, in the forest, on that ridiculous detention that you wanted them to do, Harry says he saw You-Know-Who drinking the unicorn blood!"

Albus blinked. "He he alright?" he demanded. That wasn't supposed to have happened. Harry was just supposed to have learned about the dark uses unicorn blood could have, and what an evil thing it was to kill one.

"He's fine," Dilys replied impatiently. "The centaur named Firenze came and put a stop to it before You-Know-Who could kill the boy."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be, given that I wasn't there," she answered with a pointed look. "He and his friends were discussing it in the Gryffindor common room for hours after they got back."

"What exactly did he see?" Albus asked quickly.

"From what he said to his friends, he saw a cloaked figure drinking the blood from the dead unicorn. And he said his scar began to hurt him."

"His scar hurt?" Albus repeated surprised.

"That's what I said, isn't it? He's a clever one, he's already figured out that it hurt because You-Know-Who was there. And that it's him who's after the stone," Dilys fussed worriedly with her wand. "Honestly, I can't believe how much danger you've put him in, Dumbledore. Really, he's just a child."

Albus nodded, feeling worried himself. "Watch him closely this next week, Dilys. I'm going to return the stone to Nicholas at the end of term, but if he's in any danger, I want you to come and get me immediately. If Voldemort gets the Stone, the first person he's going to go after is Harry, so be on guard."

Dilys nodded. "You're lucky that portraits don't really need to sleep, Dumbledore. I've never seen a child with such a gift for wandering around after hours."

Albus allowed himself a small smile. "That's because you've never followed a student before, Dilys."

*One week later*

Albus Dumbledore was relaxing in his office, drinking a cup of tea, enjoying the warm day. At that moment, the students were finishing their end-of-year exams in various classrooms all over the school. He always felt a sense of personal fulfillment during exams time. All the students, putting everything that they had learned during the year into play, and being surprised at how much they knew.

Truthfully however, he missed teaching them himself. Thirty-eight years had passed since Armando Dippet had retired and he had been appointed Headmaster in his place, but some part of him, a rather large part, still wanted to be in that sunny classroom on the first floor, teaching Transfiguration.

He sighed contentedly, gazing out of the large window at the grounds below. Yes, exams must be over, for the first students were beginning to stream out of the front doors. It was a beautiful day, with a cloudless sky reflected in the lake with a bright sun shining down on them all. Dumbledore began identifying students one by one, watching over them. He chuckled as he saw the Weasley twins, so easy to see with their red hair, sprint to the edge of the lake to tease the squid. It apparently wanted to enjoy the nice day as well, basking in the shallows at the water's edge.

He shifted his gaze, looking for one student in particular. He found him with his friends, as always. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were just leaving the castle. Escaping the press of the hundreds of students, they wandered down to settle down in the grass in the shade of a tall oak tree. Dumbledore smiled, remembering that tree all too well. James, had often sat there with his friends after Quidditch matches or exams. It was a very old tree… almost as old as he was.

He was so intent watching the various little clumps of relaxing students that the owl's arrival took him quite by surprise. He jumped a little when it flew in through the open skylight, landing on his desk and clacking its beak authoritatively.

The letter was brief, asking that Dumbledore come to London to advise Fudge in a meeting with him and the other members of the Wizengamot. The meeting was scheduled for 10:30 that night; which meant that he had a few hours to get there. Looking out the window once more, Dumbledore decided to fly. After all, he wouldn't be needed here for at least the rest of the day, and it was so hot a day that even above the clouds it would be comfortably warm.

At that moment, Minerva had just barged it, no doubt wanting to finish their conversation from that morning about the possibility that the Weasley twins had cheated on their examinations again.

"I'm sorry Minerva," Albus said before she had the chance to speak. "But I'm afraid that the Minster needs me at a meeting tonight."

"A meeting?" she repeated surprised.

Albus sighed and showed the letter to her. "It's for a meeting, and he says it's urgent," he told Professor McGonagall. "I suppose I'd better go, but I'm not going to floo or apparate if he insists on calling me for every little thing. If you could tell Hagrid to call a thestral—"

"What about the Weasleys' exams?" she demanded. "The answers are worded exactly the same, for heaven's sake!"

"You issued them with the standard anti-cheating quills?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then I do think it's just a coincidence, Minerva. I mean, I don't think the two of them have spent more than a detention's length of time apart from each other since they were born. They're bound to think alike as well as they act alike."

She thought about that for a moment. "I suppose it would explain their annoying tendency to finish each other's sentences. Very well. I'll have Hagrid call a thestral for you, Headmaster."

He nodded his thanks. "I'll probably be back late tonight. I'll be getting there relatively late by Fudge's standards, but he'll still probably want to go over whatever problem he's been having several times over."

*A few hours later*

It was an exceedingly pleasant flight. Dumbledore flew over the rough terrain around the castle, following the contours of the empty land, but when he began to see signs of inhabitancy, he had to put an invisibility charm on himself and the thestral. 'Sometimes,' he thought to himself, 'I wished that there was no need for the strict rules of secrecy.' But rules were rules, and he had to follow them.

As the countryside below became more and more orderly, fields and villages rather than forests and cliffs, he angled his thestral upwards, flying up to where his only company was geese and the occasional airplane. Up here, he looked down and saw the land as if it were a patchwork quilt. A few tiny clouds, so small that they had been invisible from the ground, floated around him. He teased them into spiral shapes with his wand, laughing like a child. Oh, it was so good to be alone and enjoy himself once in a while.

All too soon, London sprawled beneath him in a tangled grey carpet. It stretched endlessly in all directions from its hub of office buildings and skyscrapers. He began to descend into the noise and smell of the city, and landed eventually in a dank alley off of a busy road.

Dismounting and removing the invisibility charm, he startled an alley cat from under the dustbins, but no one else saw him. He was even early. He looked around, and quickly found what he was looking for; a small, battered-looking telephone booth tucked away in a dark corner at the very rear of the alley. Smiling, he patted the thestral's scaly neck, thanked it for the ride, and told it to return home. He waited until his ride had flown up into the sky; its outline illumined against the moon for a moment… and then disappeared.

Sighing, he stepped into it the telephone booth, ready to another boring meeting, and closed the rickety sliding door. He knew the number by heart, having been forced to come here often in the past.

Six, two, four, four, two.

A pleasant female voice answered, but not from the receiver, which was still on the hook. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Albus Dumbledore, meeting with Minister Fudge," he pronounced clearly.

"Oh," said the voice cheerfully. "What a pleasant surprise. I'll inform the Minister that you're here right away."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "Wasn't he expecting me?" A feeling of dread gnawed now at the pit of his stomach, all the joy from his flight forgotten. "Didn't he send me an owl this afternoon, asking me to come?"

"No," said the voice slowly, as though she was checking her notes. "No, I'm sorry, sir. The Minister hasn't sent any owls at all today."

Before she could finish her sentence, Dumbledore was out of the booth and back out onto the street, his mind was going at twice the speed he himself was.

As soon as he was far enough away from the Ministry building, he dissapparated outside the Hogwarts gates.

*Hogwarts*

He reapparated as close to the grounds of the school as he could, and raced back up to the castle, thinking about what was going on.

It was Quirrell, it had to be. Quirrell needed him out of the way, so he impersonated one of Fudge's letters to get him to leave the castle. Which could only mean one thing… that was that Quirrell would try to get the Stone tonight if not this very second.

He'd given Quirrell enough time to come around of his own accord. And he knew, too, that Severus had been trying to find out what the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had been up to, trying to make sure he wasn't under the Imperius Curse or being possessed.

All evidence pointed to the fact that Quirrell, while acting under Voldemort's orders, certainly knew what he was doing, and was not under the influence of any spells. Despite all that, Albus hoped he wouldn't have to kill his teacher. He needed to be stopped, but he hated taking life he could help it.

In the Entrance Hall, he nearly bowled two first years over, before he skidded to a stop. They were both panting, and hurrying off in the direction of the owlry, but stopped dead when they saw him.

He knew a moment of relief as he recognized Ron and Hermione; surely they would not be here if Harry was in danger; but then he realized that Ron was leaning on Hermione for support, and sporting a heavy nosebleed. Hermione was hardly any better, her robes were torn and she was gasping for breath as though she had just run a marathon.

They both looked terrified.

And Harry wasn't with them.

He knew at once where the boy had gone. Albus needed only to look at their flushed, sweaty faces to know what was going on. And suddenly, the situation was a lot more serious than a mere confrontation between a headmaster and dangerous Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?" he asked, but he didn't wait for an answer as he sprinted up the stairs toward the third floor.

The next instant, he was pushing open the doors to the third-floor corridor, making Fluffy quiet with a single stern word. The trapdoor opened as soon as he flicked his wand at it, and two long strides carried him out of the reach of the Devil's Snare.

The brooms were missing from the key room but a simple summoning charm worked much quicker anyway. Fortunately, McGonagall's giant chess set obeyed his command to stand aside and let him pass.

The troll was unconscious in the next chamber. Dumbledore didn't know if it was Harry, or the other intruder who had subdued him. Nor did he care. In the next room, Dumbledore merely waved his wand and the black fire parted a way for him. He ran through the leaping black flames into the final room.

When he reached the room that held the Mirror of Erised, he stopped dead unable to believe what he was seeing. For a brief moment he thought that his heart had stopped. He didn't know whom he had been expecting, but who it was took him aback.

On the steps opposite him, below the Mirror of Erised, Quirrell was grappling with Harry, who was lying on the ground, with Quirrell's hands around his throat. Harry's eyes were clenched tightly shut and he looked like he was in pain, but not so much as his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Quirrell was shrieking and batting at Harry with hands so burnt and blistered that they looked like a pair of melted rubber gloves.

"Master, I cannot hold him—my hands—my hands!"

They turned around and Dumbledore gasped. Quirrell's turban was gone, and Voldemort's face was revealed on the back of his head. The professor was pinning Harry to the ground, one hand around the boy's neck and his wand at the ready, some deadly curse clearly on the tip of his tongue—but before Albus could do anything—

Harry, clearly acting on intuition alone, touched Quirrell's face.

Quirrell let out a terrible scream. His face was scalded as well: a clear outline of a small hand stood out lividly upon it.

Harry's eyes closed in pain…

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" Voldemort screamed in a harsh, ice-cold voice, was a hideous, misshapen face, with gleaming red eyes and no nose at all.

Hearing Voldemort screaming those words were what freed Dumbledore from his shock. "Harry!" he called out as he raced across the room. Albus finally reached them, just as Voldemort's spirit lost its hold on Quirrell entirely, the face disappearing from the back of his head. He pushed himself between Harry and Quirrell, forcing them roughly apart, and both collapsed—motionless.

Dumbledore caught Harry before he hit the floor.

Was he too late? Harry looked too still now, his head rolling back on his neck. "Harry!" Dumbledore cried lifting the child's head up gently. Behind him, Quirrell was suddenly as silent as Harry, but Dumbledore had turned his full attention on the boy in his arms. "Harry!" he called again, shaking him more roughly than before, with more urgency. But there was no response.

"Wake up, please Harry," he urged, gently slapping his face, wishing for nothing more than for Harry to open his eyes. He reached for Harry wrist, and nearly sobbed in relief when he found a pulse—a very weak and faint pulse but definitely a beating one under his fingers.

Running footsteps made him look up and grip Harry tighter in defense, but it was only McGonagall and Snape. They stopped short when they saw Harry, and McGonagall gasped in horror. "Albus! What happened here? Granger and Weasley told us that… he isn't…?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, he's alive, but he's in bad shape," he answered her as he stood up, lifting Harry. "I need to take him up to the hospital wing." For the first time, he looked down at Quirrell. "Can you take him up, too?" he said to the others. "Keep a close eye on him."

He started toward the exit, but was stopped by Minerva's gasp.

"Headmaster!" cried a startled Snape. "He's dead!"

Dumbledore turned to look, and got a shock. Voldemort's face had vanished completely. It was just the back of Quirrell's head, complete with dark, thinning hair and an uneven bald spot. The burns were still there, though, stark against death-pallored skin. His face was frozen in an anguished scream, eyes wide and staring. His hands were burnt into crabbed claws, reaching for something beyond his grasp.

When Voldemort had fled, he left Quirrell to die.

Showing not the slightest bit of mercy or pity for his servants—was what ultimately killed him.

He hurried as fast as he could to the hospital wing. Poppy took one glance at the Harry, and then rushed around getting healing potions for him. After a tense hour in which Albus helped the healer in any way he could, she informed him the boy would live, but that he wasn't going to wake up anytime soon.

Just as Albus was about to leave, the Sorcerer's Stone caught Dumbledore's eye, glinting from where it was caught, still tightly inside Harry's fist. In light of what had happened, Albus had completely forgotten all about the stone. He stared at if for a moment… emotions erupting inside him like fireworks. Fear that Harry would die, anger at himself for letting Harry get into such danger in the first place, but most of all a over-whelming pride to such a degree that he had never felt before was what was overpowering everything else.

He waited until he was sure that Poppy had gone back to her office for more supplies before he reached over and firmly, but gently, took the stone from Harry's death-like grip."Good for you, my boy," he murmured to Harry, brushing the boy's hair away from his face fondly. "You did well."

Once he was sure that Harry was going to make a full recovery, and had assured his friends Ron and Hermione, who both were hysterical, that he was going to just fine did he leave the castle. And headed directly to Nicholas Flamel's manor.

He was greeted by a tired looking house-elf, who rushed off to fetch her master and mistress at Albus' appearance.

Dumbledore sat in the parlor, rolling a set of multi-colored stones around in his hand. He felt as old and tired as he was, but when he heard the Flamels enter the room, he looked up and forced a smiled to his friends.

"Fascinating things, these are," he said, indicating the colorful stones in his hand. "Alchemy may be an outdated art, but some of it shouldn't be forgotten. Like these. Even if they didn't harness the elements like they were meant to, they really are quite beautiful." He lightly set the stones down on the dark, polished wood of the table, next to his hat, and stood up.

"Albus! What the blazes d'you mean by dropping by at two o'clock in the morning!" Nicholas asked through a yawn in his a dressing gown.

"Good morning, Nicholas," Albus greeted him gravely. "The three of us need to talk." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye dimmed as he took out the stone. "About this. I'm afraid that I have some rather grave business to discuss with you."

"Really? What is it, Albus?" Nicholas asked, suddenly wide awake. "Did something happen?"

Dumbledore sighed, "I'm afraid so. I've come to talk to you about the Stone. Apparently, it wasn't as safe at Hogwarts as we had hoped. Yesterday, it was nearly stolen." He paused at the alarmed look on Perenelle's face, but she motioned him to go on. "Lord Voldemort has apparently roamed the country as a sort of a wraith since his downfall ten years ago, possessing various creatures and persons wherever he went. It seems he has, in fact, been possessing one of the Hogwarts teachers since last summer. This teacher, Professor Quirrell, attempted to steal the stone last night."

"But what happened?" Nicolas Flamel's throat sounded quite constricted as he asked.

"Well," continued Dumbledore, "He managed to break past all of the protections that were in place around the stone—all of them, except the very last one. He could not get the stone out of the Mirror of Erised, for he wished to use it for wealth and power and immortality for his master, not for good. And as he stood there trying to find a way to get the stone, one of the students arrived."

Dumbledore ran a weary hand through his beard. "That innocent boy nearly died tonight because of your stone." He paused for their exclamations of worry and disbelief, before he continued, "This student, only a first-year, had also managed to make his way past all of the enchantments protecting the stone. He knew that someone was trying to get it for Voldemort, and because he wanted to save the stone, and not use it, he was able to retrieve it from the Mirror. Unfortunately, Voldemort discover it, and attacked the student."

Dumbledore heard a gasp from Perenelle. "But Albus, that's terrible!" She shuddered. "What… what happened? Did the student… did he live? Is he alright?"

Dumbledore sat down, and pressed the tips of his index fingers together as rested his chin upon his thumbs. "Yes. You see, the student had had the help of friends to make it past the enchantments, and he had sent them to summon me. Then, he managed to keep Voldemort—well, I guess I should say Professor Quirrell away from the stone until I arrived. He nearly died;" Dumbledore gave a wry smile, "and, I suppose, if it hadn't been that he was Harry Potter, he probably would have."

This time, both of the Flamels let out audible gasps. "Oh, dear…" moaned Perenelle and noticed that Nicolas was a sight paler than normal.

"And this," Dumbledore continued, "is the reason why I'm here. I'm afraid the stone isn't safe at Hogwarts, and if we continue to keep it there, more students' lives may be endangered. I can't, I'm afraid, recommend any place in which it would be safe. I would feel best…" here he hesitated before going on watching both of their horrified expressions.

"I've found the person who was after it, Nicholas. It was Lord Voldemort himself." He looked very seriously at both of them. "Consider, Nicholas, Perenelle, how many times this sort of thing has happened over both of your lifetimes. There have always been conflicts over this Stone. You cannot pretend there haven't been. I am not going to keep it safe for you any longer. You can take it back, with the warning that I very nearly was not able to protect it, even at Hogwarts."

Nicholas took the stone in silence, and looked at Perenelle. She seemed in shock.

"I would recommend that the stone be destroyed. I think," Albus said quietly, "that it is high time for you to consider your reasons for keeping the stone, and if they are worth the consequences."

Nicolas Flamel was silent for a moment. "Yes, I see… oh dear, this is rather difficult, isn't it…?" He threw a look at Perenelle, but she didn't respond; rather, she looked like she couldn't respond.

"Of course," Dumbledore hastened to go on, "it should be your decision. The two of you ought to discuss it between yourselves and make a decision based upon what you feel is right."

"Yes… yes, I think we'd better." Flamel's voice became a little stronger as he spoke. "We'll talk about it, Albus. But it might take some time for us to decide."

"I understand," said Dumbledore. "I'll leave you now; I must be getting back to Hogwarts anyway. And do take your time. This is a big decision to make after all and I would hate to see you make the wrong choice." He stood, picked up his hat and nodded to each of them in turn. "Goodbye, Nicolas. Goodbye Perenelle. May we meet again under happier circumstances." And with that, he disapparated.

*The next day*

Dumbledore received a letter the very next afternoon.

Dear Albus,

You've always said that to the well-organized mind, death is but the next greatest adventure; Perenelle and I talked about this for hours after you left and we decided that this is an adventure that we are overdue for. We want you to destroy the stone, immediately. Too many people are endangered by its continued existence, and we have enough of the Elixir set aside so that we will have time to make sure everything is how it should be before our time in this world is over. The end must come for all living things… and we've realized that we both have grown very tired, and that it's about time that we deserve that rest. And thank you, Albus, for all you have done for us this past year.

Your faithful friend,

Nicolas Flamel.

P.S. Thanks for the advice on getting something nice for Perenelle for Christmas. She started talking to me again.

Albus smiled to himself. He put down the letter and got up to stare out the window, lost in his thoughts. He would truly miss Nicolas… though he knew it was for the best.

Life is precious… but everyone must move on sooner or later. He wondered when the day would come when he too will have to leave.

(Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please read and review.)