Yes Dumbledore is OOC ik ik, but I frankly never liked Dumbledore and I think there needed to be some sort of direct force to judge Harry and make him feel like shiz.

-Lemon Nugget


Harry slouched in the chair, scowling at the man across from him as the man offered Harry a lemon drop. Harry mumbled something offensive about lemon drops underneath his breath.

"Sorry, Harry, didn't quite catch that." Dumbledore said with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. Harry rolled his own. Harry moved further down the chair, already regretting following Dumbledore to his office.

"I've called you here to discuss a lot of things, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore uttered seriously; his amused expression gone as fast as it came. Harry wasn't sure whether to be grateful or scared it left.

"What things?" Harry asked tensely. Harry already knew the answer. Dumbledore gave him a long look; Harry averted his eyes. Guilt wasn't the right word for what Harry was feeling. Shame, though similar, was a different thing entirely. Shame was what Harry felt as he glared down at his fingers, fingers that dug into his skin.

"First, let's address the elephant in the room." Dumbledore's eyes darted to the corner of the room, funny enough there was an elephant stuffed animal sitting upon a chair. Harry almost smiled at that, but not quite.

"You've missed every single private lesson with me, Harry." Dumbledore frowned as he shook his head. Somewhere, someplace Harry felt that disappointment spread within him.

"I know." Harry murmured underneath his breath.

"Why?" asked Dumbledore directly. It startled Harry. When Harry glanced up at the man, he wasn't expecting the intense sharp look that Dumbledore gave him.

"I-" Harry began but Dumbledore cut him off.

"You're failing your classes too." The twinkle was dead and buried, what was left in Dumbledore's gaze was cold hard steel. It was frankly unlike Dumbledore and Harry briefly wondered if Dumbledore had been Polyjuiced and stuffed somewhere while an imposter stood before him.

"I need you to try harder." Dumbledore doubled down, tearing Harry a new one. Fuck, Harry already felt like shit. He didn't need this.

"I-I-I am-" Harry tried to speak but was once again interrupted.

"You need to stop focusing on things that don't matter, Harry. You are the Chosen One, so act like it." Dumbledore's voice was deadly calm. He ordered Harry, he didn't ask. Harry wondered if he was dreaming, his body felt like it. His consciousness floated away as emotions warred within him. Anger was at the forefront, but just behind it was that melancholy that constantly ate at him. It was killing him now.

"Maybe I don't want to be the 'Chosen One'!" Harry snapped suddenly. The room went still and quiet. This was a sentiment Harry had felt ever since he'd learned the truth at the end of last year, but never one he voiced to anybody. He'd kept the weight on his own shoulders.

"Find someone else to kill Voldemort." Harry demanded and it seemed to leave his lips without his permission. He would've never said these things to Dumbledore before, but it felt empowering. It felt right. He had stood up as he said it, leaving him standing over Dumbledore.

Dumbledore didn't flinch or move whatsoever, he just stared up at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Do you want Voldemort to win?" questioned Dumbledore coldly, his fingers interlacing despite the damaged hand. The only indication it hurt was the slight twitch of Dumbledore's right eye. Harry scoffed, shocked that Dumbledore would even ask that question.

"It's a serious question, Harry." Dumbledore deadpanned. Harry knew his mouth was agape, but he couldn't find the willpower to close it.

"Are you crazy? Of course not!" Harry shouted, affronted that Dumbledore would even suggest such a thing. Voldemort was an evil creature, not worthy of the title 'man'. He was a disturbed thing and under his thumb the wizarding and muggle world would suffer greatly. Many innocent lives would be lost.

"Then you must be the one to defeat Voldemort." Dumbledore insisted. Harry stared into Dumbledore's eyes, and he knew Dumbledore was right.

"Why me?" Harry hadn't meant to sound so emotional, but his voice broke as he spoke. Dumbledore smiled faintly.

"It was destiny. You were chosen for a greater purpose than you know." Harry almost believed him. Dumbledore always had that ability, that skill of making someone believe something they didn't truly resonate with.

"I hate destiny." Harry huffed, wiping his nose and eyes. He wouldn't cry in front of the old man. Dumbledore chuckled at that, the twinkle in his eyes returning like it never left. He stood, making Harry feel very small. It's not that Dumbledore was tall or anything, but his presence made him bigger than he was.

"Now, Harry, I must teach you some things. The true purpose of us meeting today." Dumbledore switched topics as fast as a spell could change your clothes.

"Due to your...absences we will have to skim certain parts of our lesson." Dumbledore states. He pulls out his wand, Harry never really noticed how epic it looked until now. It was truly a beautiful wand. Dumbledore waved it and incanted something underneath his breath and where there was nothing, an item appeared.

Harry wasn't exactly sure how to describe it other than a bird's fountain. A large bird fountain with a silvery substance inside of it.

"Harry, this is what's called a Pensieve." Dumbledore introduced, directing his hands towards the item.

"And what is it exactly?" Harry had a slight attitude; he couldn't help it. His annoyance lingered. Dumbledore's faint grin returned, it aggravated Harry further.

"Would you like to find out?" Tempted Dumbledore. He knew how curious Harry could be, he knew, and he took advantage of that fact. Harry nodded cautiously, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist the offer.

"Let's begin." Harry was about to question Dumbledore further when the headmaster pulled out a vial from his pocket. This vial contained the same silvery substance that rested in the Pensieve. Dumbledore vanished the liquid already in the Pensieve and slowly poured the new, identical substance into the Pensieve. It resembled mercury but was more transparent and less metallic.

"Begin?" Before Harry had a chance to even complete his question, Dumbledore shoved him into the Pensieve. For a moment Harry was disoriented as his entire world shifted. Somehow, it was still better than being apparated.

He stood before a large building and as he adjusted, he was able to read the sign. Wool's Orphanage it stated in large unfriendly letters. Harry looked around confused and that's when he spotted Dumbledore beside him. Harry's headmaster was transparent. When Harry glanced down at his own body, he found that he too was see-through.

He about opened his mouth to say something to Dumbledore, but Harry found the man halfway down the path leading to the orphanage.

"Wait up!" Harry called, rushing after Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave no acknowledgment that he heard Harry.

"Where are we?" Harry asked once he caught up with Dumbledore. Dumbledore side-eyed him and smirked.

"Wool's Orphanage." Dumbledore answered with a chuckle. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, but how? And why are we like this?" Harry gestured towards himself as they continued walking, slowly coming towards the entrance.

"This a memory, we are simply observing." Dumbledore answered cryptically. Harry was really beginning to hate the man.

Harry chose to do as Dumbledore said, he observed. As they entered the building, Harry noticed the rooms they passed by. The kids that Harry noticed inside the rooms wore clothing that suggested they were from a different time. Old school clothes, little vests and dresses, hats and suspenders, things you don't see on the everyday kid nowadays.

Harry and Dumbledore stopped in front of a closed door; Harry tried to touch it. His hand simply went through it like he was a ghost. Dumbledore followed close behind Harry. This room was different than the others. It was lonelier and there was only one bed with one kid on it. He wore the same clothes as the others, but Harry knew with just a glance that he was different.

Dark brown hair and the darkest brown eyes Harry had ever seen. He was too pale, but Harry guessed for a kid he was good looking. He wasn't alone in the room. Talking to him was who Harry recognized as Dumbledore. Much younger and less grey, but Dumbledore, nonetheless. Harry stared at the older Dumbledore, then back to the younger one.

"Yes, that is I." Dumbledore admitted with a sly smile. Younger Dumbledore opened his mouth again and Harry's eyes locked onto him.

"Hello, Mr. Riddle, pleased to meet you." Young Dumbledore said with a smile, shaking the scowling boy's hand. Harry heard nothing that was said after that, his mouth wide open with shock. Mr. Riddle? As in Tom Marvolo Riddle? As in Voldemort? That wasn't a name Harry could forget even if he wanted to.

The memory or whatever this was played out with Harry only half paying attention. His mind overloaded from the fact that Voldemort was once a little boy so like Harry himself. Lonely and abandoned, an orphan. Unlike Harry who grew up with a hole in his heart, this boy grew up with hate. In a world where Harry was never beaten down every day of his life, maybe he would've turned out like Voldemort. Maybe had Harry grown up in an orphanage instead he would've grown spiteful and mean. It scared Harry, it scared him a lot.

The Pensieve memory ended with the world turning black before Harry was slammed back into his body with a gasp. Harry had a million thoughts running through his head. This memory made Voldemort real, not a monster, but a real person. A broken person like Harry, just with jagged edges instead of dull ones.

"I should've seen the signs of evil sooner." Dumbledore comments shaking his head regretfully.

"I didn't see evil." Harry unconsciously states, he hadn't meant to say that. He wondered if one of those lemon drops had Veritaserum in it. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and looked at Harry inquisitively.

"Then what did you see, Harry?" Harry shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of Dumbledore, not wanting to speak his mind.

"I saw a broken little boy, just-just a broken little boy." Harry had almost related Voldemort to himself but thought better of it. Harry saw a broken little boy just like him.