Chapter 13: End of Term

Albus was there when Harry had finally woken up. He'd requested that Poppy keep him informed on the boy's recovery, and arrived just in time to see the boy opening his eyes on the afternoon she'd predicted he would wake.

"Good afternoon, Harry," he greeted pleasantly as he watch Harry blink and stare at him.

Harry looked baffled for a moment. Then his eyes filled with panic. "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick—"

Albus nearly smiled. "Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times. Quirrell does not have the Stone."

The green eyes were full of confusion once more at those words. "Then who does? Sir, I—"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

The boy finally looked around him for the first time, and Albus stifled a laugh at the thought that he hadn't even looked to see where he was before launching into his questions about the Stone. He seemed especially confused about the sweets and cards piled on the bedside table, and Albus felt obliged to explain: "Tokens from your friends and admirers."

But his words just seemed to lose Harry even more so Albus went on by saying, "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows."

Yes, you couldn't keep anything quiet at Hogwarts.

"I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a lavatory seat." Albus had to fight a laugh at that. "No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madame Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

Harry seemed to have relaxed slightly but then asked, "How long have I been in here?"

Albus was pleased to note that, while Harry certainly seemed happy that the whole school no longer seemed to hate him, he stayed focused with the events he'd missed. "Three days," he answered. "Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

'As was I,' he added though he didn't say it to Harry.

But even this would not deter him. "But sir, the Stone—"

"I see you are not to be distracted," Albus observed matter-of-factly. "Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?" he asked anxiously.

Albus shook his head. "We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you—"

"It was you," Harry said in realization.

So the boy had been just a little aware of things before he passed out completely. "I feared I might be too late," Albus admitted, hoping to impress Harry just how serious the situation had been.

"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer—"

"Not the Stone, boy," Albus said, feeling slightly exasperated that Harry seemed to think that the stone was more important than his own life, "you—the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed." Albus said this with a sense of relief, recalling the conversation he and Nicholas had had just a few days ago.

"Destroyed? But your friend—Nicholas Flamel—"

"Oh, you know about Nicholas?" Albus asked surprise, but delighted. He'd have to reprimand his portraits later for not informing him of Harry's discovery. Still, he was very pleased at he was able to learn as much as possible. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicholas and I have had a little chat and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?" Harry asked hesitantly, looking at him out of those wide, relatively innocent green eyes.

Albus gave him a small smile. "They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die." Harry looked so astonish that Albus felt that he just had to say, "To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicholas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

'Not only that,' he thought to himself. 'But I know that Nicolas decided that it would be better to not have eternal life—if it kept Tom from returning. And if I know him as well as I think I do, he wouldn't want to be the owner of an object that almost got a student killed.'

He paused, thinking of all the trouble that had come of the Stone. "You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all—the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

There was a short silence in which Harry seemed to think very hard about this. Then, inevitably, he came up with another question.

"Sir? I've been thinking… Sir—even if the Stone's gone, Vol—I mean, You-Know-Who—"

Albus shook his head. The boy had clearly been informed of that senseless taboo against saying Voldemort's name. "Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir," he said, almost without thinking, and Albus hoped the message had gotten through. "Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

Albus sighed. Time to be honest… well maybe not completely… "No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share… not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time—and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded but stopped quickly for some reason. He then said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me… things I want to know the truth about…

"The truth," Albus repeated warily, and a little sadly. He had a vague idea about what was coming. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well… Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

'For neither can live while the other survives,' said a harsh tone in Albus' memory. It was clear to him that the Prophecy had not been fulfilled… not by a long shot. That scar was the mark that was spoken of, and since Voldemort still lives, the story was not yet at an end. He looked very closely at Harry, at this eleven-year-old boy with bright, innocent eyes.

No. Everyone deserves to hang on to that innocence as long as possible. Voldemort was gone for now, and there was no pressing urge for him to know. He would tell him when he was ready.

(Or maybe… when he was ready to tell him.)

"Alas," he said with a sigh, "the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day… put it from your mind for now, Harry."

'Put it from your mind and be happy,' he added silently. "When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know."

'And I pray that you never have to be ready for such a terrible truth,' he thought.

Harry seemed to accept this with difficulty, but moved on. "But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you," Albus said quietly. "If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

As tears pushed up into those startlingly green eyes, Albus politely looked away so that Harry could compose himself again.

"And the invisibility cloak?" Harry asked once his eyes were dry again. "Do you know who sent it to me?"

Albus smiled, knowing Harry was going to like this particular truth. "Ah—your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it. Useful things… your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

'But, and I know that you don't remember it, I also promised that I would bring it back to you.'

"And there's something else…"

"Fire away," Albus said with another smile. He was getting to like Harry's curious personality.

"Quirrell said Snape—"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Albus emphasized. He could quite overlook the lapse of the title for Quirrell.

"Yes, him—Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other," Albus admitted. More like hate each other. "Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

Harry looked stunned. "What?"

"Yes," Albus affirmed, and smiled. He looked so much like a younger version of James that it was almost as if he were telling a first-year James that he would save Severus Snape's life in the future. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt… I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace…"

A part of him wanted to tell Harry the real motive… the real reason why Severus had been working so hard to protect him… but he promised Severus that he wouldn't let anyone… especially Harry… learn the truth.

Luckily, Harry went on and asked, "And sir, there's one more thing."

"Just the one?" he asked rather surprising.

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

Albus beamed at him. He really wanted to know the whole of the story, didn't he? And as he explained it to Harry, Albus couldn't help but feel proud that the boy had been able to get past the trick, to want to find the Stone but be selfless enough not to have any desire to use it.

"Ah," he said grinning broadly, "Now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone - find it, but not use it—would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life."

He smiled proudly. "My brain surprises even me sometimes…" he said more to himself than to Harry.

"Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them," he picked a golden-brown bean from right off the top that he thought, for sure, was toffee flavor. "But I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?'

He smiled as he popped the bean into his mouth. He choked it out, "Alas! Earwax!"

He left after that—but there was still one thing that he needed to do before he could relax. So he headed straight down to Hagrid's hut to ask a favor.

When he knocked on the great wooden door he heard Fang's booming barks, as always, demanding that he be let out. The door opened, and Hagrid stood there with very red and swollen eyes. "Professor D-Dumbledore, s-s-sir," he sniffled.

"Hagrid," Albus said kindly as he was invited in. "I just came from the Hospital Wing and I wanted to assure you that Harry is doing just fine. He should be out of there just in time for the end of year feast. So you can stop blaming yourself for what happened."

Hagrid gave a great shuttering gasp before he burst into tears. "Professor Dumbledore!" he sobbed, "It's my ruddy fault! I didn' mean ter! An' Harry almost died because of me!"

"Hagrid!" Albus said loudly, over Hagrid's tears. "Hagrid! It wasn't your fault! No one could've predicted what would happen…!"

"I'm sorry professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid went on as though he didn't hear him. And considering how loud he was crying, he probably didn't. "I lost yeh trust in me! I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I just went an' told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I was a git to come out an' tell him! Harry could've died! Could've died 'cause I couldn't keep me mouth shut! I swear that I'll never drink again! Yeh should just sack me and be done with it!"

"HAGRID!" Albus finally yelled. "It wasn't your fault! Harry is alive and well! The stone has been destroyed so we don't ever have to worry about it falling into the wrong hands! But if you really want to make up for what happened, there is something that I would like you to do for me!"

"Anythin' sir!" wept Hagrid.

"I know that you've been working on it for awhile… but I would like you to take the rest of the day off and finish making that photo album for Harry."

Hagrid stopped crying immediately.

"I think that Harry would appreciate it," Albus said gently.

"But… Professor…" Hagrid said, not able to form the right words. But Albus held up his hand to stop him.

"Hagrid…" he said sternly. "I came down here to tell you that I do NOT blame you. And I'm sure that Harry doesn't blame you either. We all make mistakes. I just wanted to make sure that you finish that gift for Harry. And then, I want you to go and give it to him in person. I think that Harry would like that."

"But…" Hagrid began again but once again Albus interrupted him. "I refuse to allow you to quit Hagrid. Hogwarts needs you. Now if you please excuse me, I am short on time, and I have much to do before the year ends."

He patted Hagrid reassuringly on the arm, scratched Fang behind the ears for a moment, and then left without another word. He made his way back up to the castle with a slight grin. Hagrid had been like that ever since he found out that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone after the stone. He was so quick to place the blame on himself.

Albus shook his head. He was lucky to have someone as Hagrid on his side.

*End of the year*

As he expected, Minerva had a well-thought-out lecture waiting for him at the end of term, just after all the students had departed for Hogsmeade station. It was all about the risks and the way first-years should never have had to go up against so much danger, and how, the Wizarding world would never forgive him if he'd gotten the Boy Who Lived killed.

Albus smiled, listened politely, and offered her a lemon drop when she had finished her rant.

"But you see, Minerva," he said, watching through one of Hogwart's many windows, at the Hogwarts Express departing the station in the village beyond, "After everything that has happened, it was never an unexpected trial, for him. At least not completely unexpected. The events of the year had all led up to it."

"But why, Albus?" Minerva demanded, exasperated. "Potter is just a boy! Not even a teenager yet! Why should he have had to risk his life like this at all?"

"This was just one of many tests that he's going to have to take," Albus answered quietly, with that sense of foreboding he always got when he thought of the words to the prophecy. "He has the character for it, he's proven that. But he still lacks the knowledge or first-hand experience that he's going to need. And there's no time like the present to prepare him." He glanced at her, and his eyes twinkled. "I do hope, however, that he will need to be watched much less closely next year."

Minerva on the other hand didn't seem to agree.

"Is there something you wish to say, Minerva?" he asked her.

"Well," she began slowly, blinking furiously. "It's just that… they say that the second year of school is always more exciting than the first."

Albus thought about that for a moment before he began to chuckle. "Yes… they do say that don't they? Well… we will find out if that's true."

He turned his attention back to the train as it made its way, winding like a snake, along the tracks, and away from Hogwarts. Albus stood there and looked out that window, long after the train and Minerva had both gone. He thought about everything that had happened this year…

"Yes," he muttered to himself. "This was but one of many tests that Harry will have to face. Good luck, Harry. Until next year."

(Hope you all enjoyed the first year! I'll be putting up second year as soon as possible. I would like to take a vote though, should I put in the interview with Lockhart? Or just go straight onto year 2?)