Disclaimer: Life is like a box of chocolates, you open it up and someone's already taken all the good ones.
Second Chances
The last thing he remembered was his spy solidifying his place in the Dark Lord's inner circle with an act of mercy and then everything went dark for a time. When he became aware, Albus had the sensation of floating in a warm safe place. The pain in his arm was gone, the knowledge he had been burdened with had disappeared, all was right in the world. He didn't know how long he was there; seconds, hours, days, years, centuries? Time had no meaning, everything was perfect.
"Albus!" Minerva's cry snapped him out of perfection.
"Minerva?" he croaked, why did she look so young? In a flash, the pain returned. The aches one acquires in over a century of life all the more intense thanks to the recent memory of their absence, the mantle of responsibility so much heavier.
"You called us here, what do you want?" Minerva demanded.
"You tol me I hadda go to the Potter's house," Hagrid offered cautiously.
"Yes," Albus agreed. A moment of concentration on the wards he was tied to brought nothing but confusion. It wasn't possible.
"Has something happened to Lily and James?" Minerva asked; she appeared to be bracing herself for the worst.
"I'm afraid so," Albus replied gravely, letting what he was sure was a memory play out. "The wards report that there are no signs of adult life in the house." He hadn't spoken to Minerva and Hagrid at the same time, had he? His eyes darted around finding other minor differences from what he remembered as the state of his office in the past.
"No!" Minerva sobbed.
"What do you want me to do, Headmaster?" Hagrid asked, straightening to his full height.
"There is a chance that Harry survived," Dumbledore replied. "I need you to take him and . . . and . . ." and what if this was not a memory? What if he had a chance to put things right, to undo his folly? Was there a chance that the universe would be so kind to an old fool?
"And what, Headmaster?" Hagrid prompted.
"And take him to St. Mungos," Albus replied, "along with anyone else you meet at the house." He would not repeat past mistakes, he would do what he should have done, he would not allow the individuals to get lost in his vision of the greater good.
"Yes, Headmaster," Hagrid agreed.
"Friend or foe," Albus said firmly, "if it's a Death Eater, all I ask is that they're in a large enough piece to be able to answer questions. If it's a friend, bring them in, break their legs if you have to but bring them in. James' friends should be arriving about the same time you do, on your life do not let them run off for any reason. Remind them of their duty to young Harry, remind them of their duty to the Order, and if all else fails remind them of the fact that you can shatter stone with your fists but do not let them run off!" The idea that men could change for the better was something he'd always believed, it was the reason he'd taken Severus in, the reason he'd offered the man employment. If Severus could change, then why not an old fool like himself?
"Yes, Headmaster," Hagrid agreed.
"Thank you," Albus said, releasing the tension. He pulled a sock out of his pocket. "Portus. This will take you to the Potter house. Good luck, Hagrid." He knew not why he'd been granted this chance, but he would be damned if he'd allow it to slip through his fingers.
"Should I go with him?" Minerva asked.
"No." Albus watched the half giant disappear. "I have another task for you, if you will accept it. It is in some ways easier and in others far more difficult."
"I did, Headmaster," Minerva agreed.
"So you know her sister?" Albus persisted.
"We met once or twice," Minerva replied. "Why?"
"Would you take care of notification?" Albus sighed. "It is both something that should take place in person and something that is something I should do myself, but I fear that I shall have other duties occupying my time for the foreseeable future."
"I'll take care of it for you, Albus," Minerva promised.
"Thank you, Minerva, I shall ever be in your debt." He handed the woman a second portkey and watched her leave.
Ten years to find and destroy as many of Tom's soul fragments as possible, ten years to deliver the Coup de grâce, to put Tom out of everyone's misery, ten years to do or die trying.
Albus smiled, success would allow him some measure of peace. Failure would return him do death's embrace. What did he have to lose?
"The Ministry first," he said to himself, "best to have a teams from the Department of Mysteries and Magical Law Enforcement on the scene before anything else."
IIIIIIIIII
Sirius sprung to his feet seconds after the Healers repaired his shattered limbs. He had a rat to find, a traitor to kill, a . . . familiar sharp pain in his left arm.
Hagrid calmly snapped the wizard's other arm followed by both legs. "Dumbledore tol me not to let you go."
"Are you going to do that again if I heal him again?" the Healer asked.
"If 'e tries ta leave before Dumbledore gets here," Hagrid agreed.
"Alright." The Healer flicked her wand, immobilizing the limbs. "We'll do it the slow way."
"You have to let me go!" Sirius bellowed. "I have to kill the traitor, I have to avenge Lily and James!"
"Anythin you can do to keep him quiet?" Hagrid asked hopefully.
"No problem," the Healer said with a grin.
They both watched the purple faced Sirius scream in silent rage for a few minutes until Dumbledore arrived.
"Thank you for holding him for me, Hagrid," Dumbledore said. He turned to the healer. "Would you mind removing your silencing spell, Ms. O'Day?"
"Not at all, Headmaster Dumbledore," she replied.
"What's the big idea?" Sirius growled in good imitation to his animagus form.
"The Potters are dead, that means we have a traitor," Dumbledore said calmly. "At the moment, as the secret keeper, you are my primary suspect."
"I wasn't the secret keeper," Sirius replied, "it was Peter. Now fix my bones and let me go so I can kill him!"
"Look into my eyes, Mr. Black," Dumbledore ordered. He found what he knew he would. "Fix him please, Healer O'day."
"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore," she agreed.
"Sirius, I'm going to have to ask you to set aside your vengeance for now," Dumbledore said in his grandfatherly voice.
"Like hell," Sirius growled.
"I've thought you many things over the years, but I never thought you would shirk your duty to James and Lily," Dumbledore said sadly. "It is a pity to be so wrong about a wizard's character."
"What do you mean by that?" Sirius demanded.
"Lily and James are dead, yet their son Harry lives. Where does your duty lie? In avenging the dead or in looking after their son?" Dumbledore gave a bitter laugh. "Or is it selfishness that's motivating you? Are you unwilling to do your duty as the boy's godfather?"
Sirius seemed to collapse. "You're right," he whispered, almost too low to hear.
"What was that, Mr. Black?" Dumbledore barked.
"I said you're right," Sirius replied, "I should have been thinking about Harry, not Peter."
"It seems I was right about his character after all, 'eh, Hagrid?"
"Yer seldom wrong about these things, Headmaster," Hagrid replied with a wide toothy grin.
"How did you get Hagrid to the Potter house so fast, Albus?" Sirius asked, rubbing his newly mended limbs.
"I suspected that there would be an attack on the Potters or the Longbottoms so I . . ." How could he have forgotten? "THE LONGBOTTOMS!" Albus shouted. "Contact the Aurors and tell them I suspect that two of their own are in trouble. Ms. O'day, have the hospital ready to receive casualties!" He pulled another sock out of his pocket and hastily made a portkey. "I shall do what I can," he promised as he disappeared.
IIIIIIIIII
Alice felt her teeth crack as her jaw clenched. She was helpless against the pain, unable to do anything but wallow in the sensation of agony.
"CRUCIO, you stupid bitch!" the Death Eater laughed. "Perhaps we should give your brat a dose next?"
The other three Death Eaters seemed to find the suggestion hilarious, they stopped laughing when a giant stone hand burst out of the ground and crushed one of their number into jelly. The second death eater fell when a stone lion melted out of the ground to tear out his throat.
"Who are you?" one of the two surviving Death Eaters screamed. "Show yourk." The man fell as his mask first wrapped around his head and then shrunk, shattering his skull.
"Come out of the brat gets it!" the last Death Eater called shrilly. The woman screamed in pain as a dark curse hit her wand arm, causing it vanish into a pink mist.
"All you had to do was say please," Dumbledore said calmly, stepping out of the shadows. Another flick of the wand turned the woman's now empty sleeve into a tourniquet to stem the bleeding and a last flick of his wand encased her in ropes.
"Dmbldre?" Alice wheezed.
"Frank and Neville are alive," Dumbledore said calmly, "everything looks fixable." He let none of the relief he felt at that statement color his voice.
"Wnted me ta tll wer d'rk bstard wz," she coughed.
"Rest," he commanded, hitting her with every healing spell he knew. He created three portkeys and sent each member of the family on their way, one after the other, before returning to other matters. "Shame we had to meet again under such circumstances, Mrs. Lestrange."
"The Dark Lord will destroy you for this outrage!" Bellatrix screamed. "I'll see everyone of the brats at your damned school dead for this."
"There is only one thing keeping you alive at the moment and that is the fact that you have something I need," Dumbledore said calmly, hating the necessity of what he was about to do.
"I'll die before I give you anything!" she spat.
"No, you'll die after," Dumbledore disagreed. "Rest assured, Mrs. Lestrange, you will give me what I need no matter what I must do to have it."
The sense of unrelenting certainty in the old wizard's eyes broke through the witch's madness and she stared at the old man in naked terror. Too late she understood her master's caution when it came to the old man.
IIIIIIIIII
The Auror team arrived to find the leader of the light, Albus Dumbledore, emptying his stomach onto the cobblestone street amidst the remains of his defeated foes.
"Alright there, Albus?" the lead Auror asked.
"Been better, Alastor," the Headmaster replied, wiping his sleeve across his lips to clear away the vomit. "Longbottoms make it alright?"
"Healers think that Alice is going to have permanent nerve damage from too much of the pain curse," Moody replied.
"Damn me for taking too long," Albus cursed.
"You got here soon enough," Moody assured his friend.
"I need you to send a runner to the Department of Mysteries, tell them that I believe I may be able to confirm the theory I gave them and that the evidence is in the Lestrange vault," he said.
"Be difficult to get it out of there," Moody opinioned.
"I had a short conversation with the late Mrs. Lestrange and she expressed her wish that the contents of the Lestrange vault be distributed among their victims and the families of their victims minus any dark objects," Albus said impassively. "She even signed papers to that effect."
Moody stared at the other man for a few seconds. "I'll assume you had your reasons and that your reasons were good ones."
"The road to hell, Alastor, I'll trust that as my friend you'll never allow me that leeway again."
"As your friend, you may count on it, Albus," Moody agreed.
"Thank you, Alastor. If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with the Minister that can not be postponed."
"Good luck with that, Albus," Moody said. He watched the other wizard disappear before turning his attention back to the crime scene.
"What was that about?" his number two, a girl barely out of Hogwarts asked.
"He decided to stop playing around, Bones," Moody replied.
"But?" she looked lost.
"Isn't just rumor when they say that Albus Dumbledore is the only wizard you-know fears." Moody waved at the blood stained street. "Four of 'em, four nasty buggers against one man."
"Fat lot of good numbers did 'em," one of the junior Aurors commented.
"You hear all your life that he's the most powerful wizard in the United Kingdom, doesn't sink in till you see something like this too though, does it?" Moody agreed. "Enough standing around. Jones, you heard what Dumbledore wants us to pass on to the Department of Mysteries?"
"He thinks he has proof for his theory in the Lestrange vault and Bellatrix had a sudden change of heart so getting in won't be a problem," the Auror repeated.
"Right, move!" Moody barked. "Bones."
"Record the crime scene, set up a perimeter, you'll give me my grade later," Bones grumbled, "I still think you're just lazy and pushing all your work on me."
IIIIIIIIII
Minister Millicent Bagnold emerged from a rather uncomfortable meeting with the Chief Wizard to find a dozen reporters waiting. Say what you would about the old bastard, he was a master at political games when he wanted to be.
"What's the press conference about?" one of the reporters demanded.
"You are?" the Minister asked.
"Dirk Dickson from the Prophet," the reporter replied.
"It's about several things," she said, "you'll have an opportunity to ask questions at the end if we have time." She took a deep breath. "To start with, we have indications that 'he-who-must-not-be-named' has been defeated and seriously injured at the wands of Lily and James Potter."
"How seriously?" one of the reporters blurted.
"I believe I told you to hold questions till the end," she said coldly. "Enough that he won't be a problem for quite some time, he appears to have lost his body in the dual. Unfortunately, the Potters were killed in the exchange and their son was gravely wounded by an unknown curse." She closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come.
"Just before I came out, I signed my resignation with Dumbledore as a witness effective half an hour from now. It was not an easy choice, but I believe it was the right one given the circumstances." She forced herself to smile. "A number of Death Eaters offered me a large amount of gold for pardons, I accepted." The room went wild and she allowed them to chatter for a few moments.
"SILENCE!" she bellowed. "I have here a stack of unsigned pardons. I intend to sign them and use the illegal portkey in my pocket to transport myself somewhere that does not have an extradition treaty with us."
"Minister, you can't be serious?" her aide stammered.
"Dead serious," she replied, reaching into her pocket. "Oh my, it seems that I do not have a quill with me. Does anyone have one I could borrow?" Grins began to appear as people divined her game. "No? Well, I suppose I could send my aide down to Diagon Alley to purchase one for me."
"Might be delayed, Minister," her aide said with a wide grin, "what with the celebrations and the fact that it's time for me to take my lunch break."
"Do your best," she replied, "wouldn't want you to get back after my resignation took effect and I no longer had the power to sign these pardons."
"Be a terrible thing, Minister," the aide agreed.
"Hmmm, I suppose I could have you step outside to buy a muggle pen," she mused. "No, no that wouldn't work. I'm sure all these Death Eaters would just hate to have their freedom because of a muggle device. Better to send you down for a quill and hope that you get back in time."
"Right you are, Minister," the aide walked to the back of the room to watch the rest of the show. He hadn't thought the old girl had it in her.
"I believe some of you had some questions you wanted to ask me?" the Minister prompted.
'Dumbledore was right,' Bagnold reflected to herself a few minutes later as the question and answer session wound to a close, 'this was fun.' Pity about losing her position, but at least she got to keep the gold and stay out of Azkaban. Not to mention the legacy she was leaving behind. Bagnold the crafty, she rather liked the sound of that, she had to remember to send a note suggesting it to the Prophet.
"I'm afraid that's all the time I have to answer questions," the Minister said, holding up her hand. "Oh my, it seems my aide hasn't returned with a quill. I'd fire him if I had a quill to fill out the termination paperwork."
"But you don't," one of the reporters called out, setting off another round of laughter.
"Such is life," she agreed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a quill. "Oops, what do you know, it was in my left pocket the whole time." She dropped it on the podium. "Enough time to sign one pardon, who should it be?" She pressed it on the top piece of parchment. "Never mind, don't suppose anyone has any ink do they?"
That set off another round of laughter.
"Thought not," she sighed, "and with that, it's time for me to take my leave."
The reporters were still laughing when Dumbledore's portkey activated. She hoped it would take her some place warm, it would be absolutely wretched to live out her exile in a frozen wasteland.
AN: Idea is that Dumbledore spent most of the future watching his plans come to fruition and filled with regrets at what he saw as his past mistakes, is killed by Snape, and given a chance to do things again.
Beta by dogbertcarroll
More Polish by ubereng
Omake: A Good Friend
Petunia awoke with a start, there was something wrong. "Vernon," she whispered.
"He's not going to respond," a voice from her past said calmly. "I made sure of that."
"Is he . . ." she choked.
"Quite dead," the voice agreed. "I've spent the last five minutes trying to decide if you and your brat should join him."
"Severus, please . . ."
"Shut up!" Snape barked. "You were expected to do a simple thing, to do something anyone with a trace of human decency would do." He stepped out of the shadows, allowing the full weight of his glare to fall on the woman. "It took me four years to ferret out where the boy had been hidden, four years I'd been sure were wasted. After all, the great Albus Dumbledore would never put the 'chosen one' in a less than ideal environment would he?"
"I didn't have a choice," Petunia squeaked. "Vernon . . ."
"Is dead and beyond blame," Snape interrupted. "It took me another six months to find the time to visit." The debt on his soul had never before felt so heavy. "Do you know what I saw when I made my visit?"
"Vernon said he needed to earn his keep," Petunia said weakly. And she'd loved the idea of pushing work on someone else.
"I found the boy doing garden work in filthy cast offs," Snape continued, ignoring the woman. "It made me uneasy, but I managed to convince myself that it was normal. Families allow children to help with work all the time, and simple prudence dictates that they be dressed in old clothing. Satisfied that I'd done my duty to the only friend I've ever had, I went home." And condemned a child to another week in hell. "I came back this morning to lay my doubts to rest." His eyes were burning with rage. "What I learned earned your Vernon a painful death, choking, reaching for you, and begging me to do anything if only it would stop the pain." He'd gotten careless, the man had broken after only an hour. "Which still leaves the question of what to do with you and your brat."
"Please, Severus, not Dudley, I'll do anything," Petunia sobbed.
"You are going to go to sleep," Severus decided. "In three hours, you'll be awoken by a fire or you will sleep through it. Assuming you live, you will take your child and you will run, you will disappear, you will do everything in your power to avoid notice, and if you are lucky, it will be enough to make the bother of finding you to great." He raised his wand. "Because some time in the future, my sense of professionalism will compel me to complete the job I started tonight."
Snape hit the woman with a spell. He'd given the child a measure of vengeance against some of his tormentors, perhaps it would let look himself in the mirror again? He should be so lucky. A tear rolled down his cheek as he though about what his carelessness had allowed to happen. The child of the only friend he'd ever had, the child of the only woman he'd ever loved, and he'd been too busy to look in on the lad more than once? It was time to tell the old man what his foolishness had permitted, time to bring things to a close. With luck, a potion in the bastard's tea would take care of things. If not? Well, perhaps he'd get lucky. The worst that could happen was a messy death at the end of the bastard's wand, he should be so lucky.
"Damn me," Severus whispered to himself.
AN: Could be rewritten without too much trouble into the beginning of a Snape raises Harry fic I suppose.