Chapter 3: Questions of Eternal Youth and Age

AN: Italics are dialogue from books. All of this universe belongs to JKR.

The next few days were what Dumbledore had expected. McGonagall was in a fury when Gryffindor lost the Quidditch match. The fifth and seventh years finished their exams as the professors graded the work of other years. Stories were spreading about what Harry had done. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were pestered for details at every chance. And of course, Harry Potter slept on.

Pomfrey had been busy caring for her patient. She did not kick out the Headmaster when he visited, nor Ron or Hermione until she felt it had been too long and they needed to leave. The two spent most of their time trying to see their friend. When they were not there, and the hospital wing was in its quiet hours, Dumbledore sat and watched the boy thinking about the past and future.

He disillusioned himself when the Weasley twins snuck in at such a time with a Hogwarts toilet seat. It was one of the many gifts Harry had received. He himself had bought the boy some sweets, as had McGonagall. It seemed some others had contributed as well. The pile was growing high when Harry finally woke in a daze, then a panic.

After Dumbledore managed to assure him all was well, after all, he and his friends were alright, even if he had slept for three days. The stone was safe, but at the same time lost forever. He sat and answered Harry's questions, happy the boy was worried for Nicholas, or that in fact, he knew about Nicholas at all. If the boy's future was anything like the prophecy said it would be, he should know. Death was but the next great adventure.

Indeed, as Harry had observed, Voldemort was not gone. When he finished his explanation and the poor boy was able to focus enough to gather his thoughts, Harry had turned to the old man. "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. 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." Harry waited a moment before asking dwelling that last line. Not lying did not mean omitting truths. Both knew that all too well. Dumbledore then took the chance to get his answers, answers to questions he'd had since the night he'd spoken to Ron Weasley. "But, after you have finished asking your questions, you must allow me to ask some of my own."

Harry nodded. The conversation proceeded with some questions that had been expected, others not as much. It was not easy to refuse the boy the answer to his first question but revealing the prophecy this early would have a negative effect on his psyche. He would protect the boy as he had promised, as Lily had done with her blood protection.

He pretended not to notice Harry's tears as he explained how Lily's love had saved him. "Your mother's love, and her blood, is a protection otherwise unmatched. I am unable to provide better protection, no matter how much I might wish I could. Your mother's blood keeps you safe. It casts a protective barrier. One that has kept you safe for the past ten years of your life."

Harry blinked at him in confusion. "I don't understand, sir. What does that mean?"

"It means, the Dursley's the one place that still has your mother's blood, is the only place Voldemort could not reach you, nor any of his followers. It was relatively unknown and kept you out of the eyes of the magical world, who praised you as their savior, a heavy burden on such a young head."

This was true. He had never wanted Harry to be prideful, like James Potter, or so confident in how special his abilities were, like Tom Riddle. Lily had also been sure of herself and her powers. Harry would not think himself special, but a normal boy who had magic like many others. This was something he had carefully explained in the letter he had left with the boy, but by Hagrid's account, nothing had been said to Harry before his eleventh birthday.

It was indeed a miracle Harry had turned out so well. Of what McGonagall had said that November morning ten years ago was true. The Dursleys often behaved in a vile fashion. The boy with James' charm, Lily's sweet manners, both of their curiosity, in fact, an amalgam of the best of both his parents had somehow survived living in that home.

Harry's startled look gave him another reason for the invasion and use of Legillemency. He did not look in too far. He only looked at feelings, of the loneliness, longing, and pain the boy felt. It was something terrifyingly familiar.

"Now, I believe it is my turn for a question. Do you believe that protection works?"

"Don't you know?" Harry asked.

"I am asking you for a reason Harry, and I believe we agreed to be truthful with each other. Now, do you think that protection worked? Were you protected from the magical world and Voldemort?"

"I guess. I mean, I saw a few strange things. People would come over and say hi or shake my hand when I was with Aunt Petunia. No one ever hurt me though."

So, the protection had not been working completely. After all, it had to go both ways. Petunia had taken him in and made the place his home, but Harry had not felt it to be a home where he was safe and loved. Not like Lily would have wished.

Dumbledore nodded. "Now that my curiosity on that has been satisfied, what else do you wish to ask me?"

"The invisibility cloak – do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah—your father happened to leave it in my possession. I had been borrowing it the night Voldemort attacked your home. It was time it was returned to its proper owner. After all, an object like that can be of a lot of use. You have learned that, just as your father did. He also used the cloak during his time at school. Mostly it was for mischief of the likes the Weasley twins would create. He had friends, much like yours, who were loyal and followed him in his troublemaking endeavors."

"Now, I would like to know what other mischiefs you got up to this past year. I know you discovered Hagrid's Fluffy early on. And we both know how you found the mirror. But Gryffindor did lose house points during one night in particular."

"We were trying to help."

"So, what Mr. Malfoy said was true. Very well, I shall not tell anyone. It will all seem to be a part of some rivalry."

"Was that what Snape and my father were? Rivals? Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Professor Snape, Harry. And yes. They were much like you and Mr. Malfoy. But there was something that Professor Snape was never able to forget."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes… As I said, your father was a bit of a troublemaker. There was one prank that went particularly wrong and got more dangerous than it ever should have. Your father had no knowledge of it, but the moment he did, he went and stopped it, saving Snape's life. Of course, this created a debt. Professor Snape likely feels he has finished owing that debt. Now he could hate your father as he wished."

Harry scowled.

"Now enough of this. We shall focus on happier topics. As you see, you have many gifts. I hope you don't mind if I pilfer one. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, perhaps? 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. But one must always try again, yes? I'll be safe with a nice toffee."

Harry took the box and chose one himself as Dumbledore exclaimed. "Alas! Ear wax."

"Sir, I do have one more question."

"Ah, but I do have rather more than one myself. We shall see if you can think of any others after I have had my turn. Now, what is it you wish to ask?"

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

Dumbledore smiled and explained the plan he had and how Harry had managed it. He hoped Harry could understand he was proud of such a feat. He looked down at the boy softly when he'd finished explaining. "Now I can see you need your rest. Madam Pomfrey should be by soon to shoo me out the door. But Mr. Weasley said something the other night and I was wondering; how often do you have dreams?"

"Dreams?''

"Yes, dreams. They are wondrous things. I had one myself the other day about a candy unicorn horn. Quite delicious. Now, your dreams. Do you have them often, and are there any specific ones you would like to recount? Some that stand out?"

Harry was silent for a moment. "Before I got my letter. I dreamt about a motorcycle. It was flying. There was something fuzzy also. I think there was crying. Maybe some wind? I don't know what else."

"That is an interesting dream."

"And then, after Professor McGonagall took all those points, there was another. I was a baby. There was some green fire and a lot of people. I was put down on the floor, I think it was in the great hall and there was another kid. She had pink hair, like one of Charlie's friends who took Norbert."

"Ah, Miss Tonks. Yes. Both of these dreams sound more like memories to me. In fact, I remember both of those occasions quite well."

Harry looked at him curiously. "Really?"

"Yes. And I shall tell you about them another time. Perhaps next year." Dumbledore needed to see how true his suspicions were. How much had he done wrong? "Before that, I will allow one more question. After all, I believe we will not have another chance to speak before this summer."

Harry's deep green eyes met his. He looked into them and tried to find the courage as he spoke. "Sir, do I have to leave for the summer? Back to the Dursleys?"

Dumbledore looked down and sighed. "I believe it is time you got some rest."

"But, sir—"

"I shall leave now, as Madam Pomfrey already seems to be getting angry. If you listen to her you should be well enough to join your housemates for the end of year feast. I need to go and prepare myself."

Not to mention making some plans after all he had learned.