Disclaimer: I don't own HP in any way or form.

AN-1: Discontinuing two tiers on P*T*R*N, where you can find the NEXT SIX CHAPTERS right now!

AN-2: First year officially ends, at about 115K words. Second year starts at around 29 I think. Things will slowly pick up speed, especially since now I am devoting more parts of Ascension to other character's POVs, backgrounds, and their thoughts and actions.

"This is unacceptable," Dumbledore frowned, looking over the treaty before him, his eyes then flicking over to the Persian ICW representative. "You want the ICW to intervene in the conflict you have going on with India, and force a surrender from them all because of the muggle population demographic in their territory?"

"Well, we never accused them of having a brain between their ears," Rana, the spokesperson from India commented, flicking his hand in the direction of the Persian delegate. "Supreme Mugwump, as you had summoned India for an emergency meeting regarding Persia's continued aggression, we answered. However, it is an auspicious time in my community and family, and I request your leave to return…if you feel the matter has been concluded."

"You may do so Rana," the aged wizard nodded, smiling as he waved his wand, and a small box wrapped in sparkling paper appeared between them. "For Priya. Grandchildren are always precious to see and hold."

"Thank you for the gift, Supreme Mugwump," the Indian wizard lowered his head in respect, before with a short bow in the direction of the whole body, he vanished. Sighing heavily, Dumbledore moved his eyes back to the Persian wizard, Farhad's pleasant expression unable to hide his anger and disappointment at the judgment taken. But Dumbledore's hands were tied, by ethics, rules, and the greater good.

While the muggle parts of the world were ruled by the might of the USA, Russia, and Europe with China set to be joining their ranks and surpassing them in a few decades…the magical side was quite different. Britain, China, and India were the three strongest nations in the Magical World, their economy and magical power enough to give their neighbours pause and tread carefully around them. And currently, India was engaged in a cold war of sorts with the Persian state.

"Fahad, your appeal for the peacekeeping forces is denied by the overwhelming judgement of the Convention," he began, resisting the urge to massage his temple as he stared down at the Persian Wizard, knowing that whatever he said, war between the two powers was inevitable. "Persia and India have been neighbours for thousands of years, and we wish that you continue to exist cordially without encroaching on each other's land and people. In return, if we find conclusive proof that Persia has neglected our warning, and continued its unprovoked aggression against other nations then we wi-"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, feeling one of the many wards he had erected over his life flare in warning, and his face tightened as he stood up sharply. Ignoring the inquisitive gazes of his fellow councilmen, he walked towards the apparition point. "Apologies, Honoured Representatives," his voice rumbled in the chamber as he turned around and smiled at everyone, the Elder Wand thrumming in his hand as his fingers ghosted over the bumps in its, "But I must see to a matter in my home, it seems some students found it prudent curse a few bludgers."

"Bring the purifying drought, Severus," Pomfrey's voice echoed in the Infirmary as Dumbledore walked inside, his hands inside his robes as he fingered the wand of his deceased defense professor. The resident potions master passed by him, three vials clutched in his hands as another one floated over to the mediwitch bustling about young Neville's bed. "Harry has lost a lot of blood and I am unfamiliar with the cutting curse used on him, but I remember you treating yourself once with the same wound. Can you handle it or shall I call in St. Mungo's?"

"What do you take me for?" Dumbledore sighed the ever-present sneer in his once wayward student's voice, but he smiled the next moment as Severus began to chant softly, waving his wand in the air and creating a temporary runic matrix to suck the malevolent remains of the dark magic from Harry's body. Deciding to assist him first, he walked forward, his eyes moving over the grey veins spreading out from the Potter heir's shoulder to the rest of his body, his senses able to practically taste the darkness and foulness burrowing its way into the boy's very cells.

"Tom," he whispered softly, drawing the eyes of his subordinate as he laid his hand upon the wound, blood sticking to his old, thin fingers and making yet another part of him die as he witnessed the shallow rise and fall of the eleven-year-old. As he drew upon his own power and helped Severus in extracting the magic permeating through the boy's bones, once again, Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder just how low was Tom going to sink in his quest for power and immortality. Killing babies, Murdering entire houses, and destroying legacies worth centuries…and now attempting to kill the children of his most trusted supporter, "Assist Pomfrey, Severus. I shall handle it from here."

"Hn," the man just grunted, removing his magic right at the moment Albus took over the matrix, turning away with a swish of his cloak to heal the other Potter twin, and out of the corner of his eyes, Albus saw the number of broken bones and damaged organs the young girl was suffering from. Concentrating back on his own task, Dumbledore raised his palm, as visible tendrils of black energy began to come out from Harry's wound, and he winced as Harry writhed against the bonding charms laid on the bed as Tom's curse caused him agony anew.

The magic coalesced together above his palm, and the glowing runes wrapped around it, compressing it into a sphere before it was crushed into nothingness, purified, and returned to nature. His fingers twitched at the lingering, slimy feel of the energy, and Dumbledore looked down at the wound that stretched across the length of Harry's shoulder and collarbone. The passive healing done by his body on its own had stopped the bleeding for the most part, but he could still see the parted muscles and torn flesh through the partly congealed blood.

Raising his wand, he willed the wound to close, and the flesh to regenerate and knit back together as he moved it down the length of the wound, vanishing the blood and the dirt as he healed it. A pale pink scar was left behind in the wake of the injury, and Albus sighed as he chanted another healing spell, the flushed scar dulling and thinning a bit as the skin around it returned to the normal pallor of the Potter scion. "Rest well, Harry Potter," he sighed, brushing the young wizard's hair away from his sweat-soaked forehead, and with a flick of his wand, robed him again in his cleaned and repaired uniform. Moving onwards, he walked over to Neville, a frown coming on his aged features as he saw Poppy swear at wave her wand frantically over the young wizard.

"What is the problem here?" He asked, removing the Philosopher's Stone from Neville's pockets and teleporting it to his office, as he came to stop beside the pale mediwitch, "Is this poison or a curse?"

"Neither I am afraid," she shook her head, taking a step back and letting the Headmaster do his own diagnostics as she turned around to heal Ronald Weasley. Mediwitch of renown and talent she may be, but some things were beyond her expertise and knowledge, and Neville's condition was one of them. Better let Dumbledore handle it than waste everyone's time. Summoning a healing salve and covering Ron's wound with it, she continued, "His magic is revolting against something…that is the closest I can tell. There are no wounds or substances in his system that should cause such a thing, and even his mind is in a deep sleep right now. Ideally, I would say that he is just sleeping, but his scar is acting up. There was blood coming from it when Severus and Minerva brought them in, and there were high levels of chaotic magic within his body, especially in his scar. Severus and I did what we could, but everything I tried was incapable of removing the taint from his body. His energy is depleting bit by bit, and his heart rate has also dropped in the last five minutes he has been here."

"Very well," he nodded, his eyes tracing over every inch of Neville's body as he reached out with his senses, shuddering at a sensation he had not felt in a decade. Raising his hand, he traced the raw, bloody scar on Neville's forehead, before his wand raised in the air, the tip shining a soft white, "Obliviate."

"Why are you here Arcturus?" He sighed, apparating into his office and immediately deflating at the sight of Lord Black sitting on the visitor chairs, his ever-present cane in his left hand as the man tossed another candy from the bowl into his mouth. Dumbledore looked forlorn at the depleted state of his personal collection before he looked at the number of wrappers Arcturus had spread across his desk, "Those are my favourites you know, I personally get them from Switzerland, and they cost quite a lot of galleons."

"You draw money from two sources, I think you can handle a little lack of sweets," Arcturus dismissed with a snort, before his eyes flicked towards the portraits of previous Headmasters, all of them watching the Black Lord warily, "I see the Dark Lord gave a friendly visit to the castle while you were away."

"He possessed Quirrell, of all people," he nodded, sitting down on his chair and placing the deceased wizard's wand on the desk, the wrappers vanishing as the House Elves went to work, "I suppose I should have been suspicious when Quirrell suddenly showed an aptitude for wandwork that he had never shown prior to his trip across the globe."

"Possession…and the wards of Hogwarts didn't detect a wraith in someone's body?"

"How do y-Phineas," Dumbledore sighed, turning towards the man who had occupied his post prior to Dippet, a disapproving frown on his face, "I have been lenient in the past Phineas, but if you disclose another secret of the castle to someone not on this chair, I shall remove your portrait and drop it in dragonfire."

"You think I have anything more left to disclose?" The mad wizard cackled as he walked away from the frame, before peeking back and continuing, "Besides, not my fault I have a family to talk to outside these walls."

"That was a good one," Arcturus chuckled, before he remarked drily. "Besides, you forget that Blacks have been a part of Hogwarts ever since the Founders laid the first wardstone. The Lords of the House have known about most of the old wards, or at least, those that cared enough to read. What I am more flummoxed by is that the wards didn't detect a foreign entity, one entirety composed of malevolent magic entering or exiting the premises. The Dark Lord has outdone himself once again!"

"Yes," he smiled, closing his eyes as he remembered that rainy afternoon when he had first met the young child. Once again, for the thousandth time, Albus couldn't help but wonder whether it had been his show of force and power that had solidified the young child's desire to be all-powerful, or was it his negligence of a scared wizard's demands. Opening his eyes, he looked at the chestnut wand before him, "He always had a way of bending magic and altering the existing with his mind and power, but I wish it didn't come at the cost of the other's happiness and lives. Now then, I assume you wish to know about the state of Harry and Persephone?"

"I visited them already," Arcturus sighed, his amused countenance cracking for a moment as he looked outside the window. "I was in Japan when I felt the ring warn me, and I have most probably caused an incident there by apparating back directly instead of following the rules. I had just exited the infirmary when you apparated here in fact, and I knew that you and Severus could handle the wounds they had sustained."

"And how did you open my office?"

"Imperiused the gargoyle outside," he shrugged. Arcturus straightened up the next moment as he continued. "Pleasantries and talks aside, I am taking Harry and Persephone back tonight instead of waiting for the end-of-the-year feast. I don't trust the students here, or your staff to keep their opinions to themselves once it becomes known that Longbottom and his sidekicks stopped the Stone from being stolen, and Harry and Persephone were outside of the dorms at the same time. Thank you for healing Harry, and tell McGonagall to not shirk in her duties as the Deputy again, or I shall see what clout my name has still got on the Board and outside this tower of yours."

"I killed Professor Quirrell," he said, fiddling with his fingers as the Headmaster took a seat beside him, the first words he had spoken ever since he woke up an hour ago. "I just wanted to defeat Voldemort…but I didn't think it would kill Quirrell, not at first. But even after a part of me realized what was happening…I didn't stop, I just wanted him dead and gone, and I didn't even think that Quirrell would also die because of whatever magic my mother had caused."

"I understand what you are going through," Dumbledore said after a few moments, his tone somber and regretful as his mind flashed back to his own first kill, distasteful as it was now decades later, "I abhor killing Neville, a fact that is well known across the world. And I try my best to cultivate that thinking amongst the students here whenever I can, all so none may have to scar their souls by the weight of this act. But sometimes, life and destiny don't give you a chance my boy. I regret that you had to do what you never should have been forced to, and that too at such a tender age. I can only offer words and guidance Neville, and I apologise for my own lack of security and vigilance regarding the Stone…I am sorry dear boy. Know that help shall always be given to those who desire it at Hogwarts, and as such…you may visit me for the coming week every evening at your own leisure…as I believe you were supposed to attend a few extra classes, and with the current state of the castle, I shall take up those."

"What happened to the Stone?" Neville asked, a part of him still unable to digest the fact that Albus fucking Dumbledore was going to give him private lessons. He raised his eyes towards the Headmaster, and patted the pocket where he had felt it being dropped by his mirror self. "The reflection in the mirror dropped it in my pockets, but I think the Profes-"

"It was I who took the liberty of taking it back, dear boy," Dumbledore interrupted with a smile, and removed his glasses as he waved a hand in the direction of his office. "Currently it is safe in my office, and within a few hours, it will be back with its creator. Master Flamel was most…displeased regarding the mishap that happened due to my negligence…I must say I have never been scolded like that in quite some time."

Neville smiled weakly, an image of a comically large Nicolas Flamel shouting at a young Albus flashing through his mind, and he couldn't help but chuckle, "Hard to imagine someone scolding you Headmaster," he admitted at the questioning glance Dumbledore gave him. "Are Hermione and Ron alright? They woke up before me and Madam Pomfrey hasn't let them inside yet. And also, what about Harry and Persephone?"

"Your friends are all fine," he answered back, looking in the direction of where the four other children had been resting before he glanced back at Neville, "Harry and Persephone, I believe, are currently enjoying the grounds outside with Misses Greengrass and Davis—the last few minutes before Lord Black arrives to take them back to his elusive abode, while Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are…enjoying themselves in Minerva's office."

"Detention?"

"Detention," Dumbledore nodded, and sighed as he saw the anger come over the face of the young wizard. "I understand that Minerva was…less than stellar in the execution of her duties, as well as taking your warnings seriously. But it seems Professor Quirrell, or rather, Lord Voldemort had made prior arrangements to make sure that each and every one of the staff would be unable to move to the chamber before his work was done. It was only due to Professor Snape's ever-present vigilant nature that made them capable of waking up and dismantling the numerous wards Voldemort had set up on his way to the chambers on the Third Floor. I assume that was also what weakened him in addition to the prolonged possession, which enabled you all to win over him. Though, I must commend your bravery in coming out of that barrier and facing Lord Voldemort alongside the Potters."

"He threatened my friends," he murmured softly, looking down at his hands as for the hundredth time since he woke, the sensation of burying his fingers in Quirrell's neck and turning it to ashes making him shudder in revulsion and fear both. "He said he would kill everyone in this castle if it meant getting to the Stone…and I couldn't let him do that."

"And that is where you differ, Neville," Dumbledore spoke, and he looked up at the utterly serious tone of the Headmaster, his soft smiles and twinkling eyes gone to reveal the strongest wizard in the world. He shuddered for a moment, feeling the weight of Dumbledore's gaze and power settle upon his shoulders as the Headmaster took out his wand, and his eyes followed the thin fingers as they moved over the ridges and bumps in it, "It is not power or knowledge that makes someone great. Those are fleeting things, able to be gained by persistence, luck, or any number of external factors. No…what makes someone great, someone to be remembered are the thoughts. You desired to save your friends and the other students in this castle, hundreds of whom you don't even know at the cost of personal injury and probable death…that shows the strength of your character, and the will of your parents that lives on in you. Remember this Neville, and never forget the power of standing shoulder to shoulder with people you trust, in happiness, in grief, in every moment of your life."

Neville blinked at the sudden philosophical dump the Headmaster had heaped on him, unable to think of a reason why the smiling man would suddenly become so serious and so abstract. But before he could ask anything, Dumbledore abruptly stood up and waved his wand, and a bowl of chocolates appeared before him. As his eyes flicked to the bowl, Dumbledore patted his shoulder and smiled, before turning around and walking away, his parting words echoing for hours to come in Neville's mind.

"Frank and Alice would have been proud of you."