(Hello i just what to let you know that this history is not mine i just re publish it since is have been delete for a long perod of time and no one has republish this history before)

I recommend you read this in 3/4 of the actual size. The text was formatted in a doc so it looks a little stretched out on ffnet.

Warnings: mentions of possible abuse, lots of magical theory, death, references to a lot of shit, long internal monologues, some philosophical theory bc I am that pretentious (also because I believe that is how Dumbledore, a highly intellectual individual, would think), etc. As the story progresses, I shall have to add more warnings.

A note for this chapter: opinions stated in this chapter (and possibly all future chapters) from any of the characters do not reflect my own.

They are simply my interpretation of the cognitive thought process that goes on in the characters' heads.

Minerva's own Transfiguration Today magazine was open: it laid on her mahogany desk - a desk that had been used by numerous Headmasters and Headmistresses throughout history. She had religiously read this periodical throughout her teenage years and entire career and yet the edition that laid before her was uninspiring and had topics that had been regurgitated several times - save for one column. This particular column would tempt witches and wizards around the world to buy it, simply to have a chance to read the last words of Albus Dumbledore.

Her heart ached for her old mentor. He had been at times infuriating, but his kind disposition and mischievously twinkling eyes had very quickly made her fall in love with him. She had confessed her true feelings at last, when she had been a teacher at Hogwarts for several years already, serving as a transfiguration professor for the younger years and Albus for the older. In a gentlemanly way he had very softly rejected her, telling her that his heart belonged to another.

Only years later, Albus had confided in her that he had only ever loved one man, Gellert Grindelwald.

"I hear you met young Harry today?" Questioned an exulted voice.

Minerva turned in her seat to face Albus Dumbledore's portrait. Of course, he wasn't really Dumbledore. Unlike most people (which Minerva supposed was a phrase that was as good a characterisation for Albus as any), Albus had not chosen to imbue his spirit in the painting; instead he had chosen to teach it how to speak, how to think like him and so on. *1

Whether in the flesh or as a portrait, Albus still seemed so omniscient hence her lack of an answer. "How was he?" The portrait asked after a moment and Minerva instantly knew that he was thinking of the Dursleys.

"Harry seemed... fine," she said slowly. Albus cocked his head to the side, unknowingly mimicking Harry. Or was Harry unknowingly mimicking Albus?

"Fine?"

"Very fine indeed, Albus." Her eyes narrowed in thought. "I was wrong in suspecting the Dursleys; they have been good too him." She sighed deeply, yet she couldn't shake off the feeling that she was missing something. In fact, now that she thought over it, where had Vernon been? She couldn't quite remember seeing him - or indeed any pictures of him in the foyer or living room. Was he out of the picture, excuse the pun.

"And his interests?" Albus prodded, his x-ray like gaze surveying her with the utmost interest.

"Oddly," she said with mirth, "Transfiguration. He seemed quite interested in the theory. And by Merlin, he's frighteningly intelligent, Albus - wise beyond his years!" She paused and her expression became stern. "He has the same regard for time as you, Albus," she said rather disapprovingly; sarcasm dripped off every word, something which was unusual for her. Albus had the decency to blush a little. " Always late!" She exclaimed.

"Ah, but my dear Minerva, there is an immeasurable distance between late and too late!" Exclaimed Albus.

"Better three hours too soon than a minute too late," she countered with a smug twitch to her lips, and then turned around in her seat to continue reading her magazine. Albus dropped the matter, but had she turned to glance at him once more, she would have seen him pondering over this latest development.

The flesh-and-blood-Albus, a heavy sleeper by nature, was shocked awake when he heard a loud shriek downstairs in the hallway.

Petunia. Groaning, Albus rolled over in his bed and took a glance at the clock - it was only seven o'clock. Groaning again, he shot Fawkes (who was perched on the back of the chair at the desk) a glare when the phoenix made a sound akin to laughter.

Pocketing his wand (though mindful that he was not yet allowed to use it), he put on his morning robe and spilled out onto the hallway in a mess of limbs and morning sleepiness. Dudley was standing at the top of the landing and was peering over the rail, down into the hallway below.

"Did Petunia find another mouse?" Albus said groggily. Dudley hardly spared him a glance, very used to Albus' morning grogginess by now.

"I think it's the mail," he replied. "I don't get how mail could be that exciting. As far as I can see it's all bills anyway," Dudley continued, yawning briefly and then disappearing back into his room with a mutter of 'back to bed'.

Albus found Petunia at the end of the hallway, walking slowly in the direction of the kitchen, eyes almost blurry due to the speed with which she was reading whatever letter had just arrived. "Aunt Petunia?" Albus called, worry lacing his voice. Regardless of all she had done to him in the past, he had found himself slowly warming up to her doting character.

She spun around, eyes wide with shock and with a small smile she offered him the letter. He took it after a moment.

" Dear Mr Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Eton College on a full scholarship-" Albus read out loud and then continued silently to himself, only stopping once he had finished. When he finally saw Petunia's expectant expression, he smiled sadly and her face seemed to crash.

"I had thought-" she started uncertainly. Albus raised his hand and waggled his fingers, calling his magic to manifest. Almost instantly, a tendril of magic resembling flowing water coagulated into a small ball at the very centre of his palm. It floated there for a bit and then started interweaving between his fingers. A small gasp left Petunia's mouth.

"It is extraordinary that my academic success has been recognised by Eton College," Albus started kindly, knowing exactly how famous this school was in the muggle world. "But my true talent and heritage lays in magic and the wizarding arts."

"I lost my sister to your world," Petunia said darkly. "She sacrificed herself to your lot! To Evil!" Albus sighed deeply.

"Her sacrifice saved all of wizarding England and potentially a large portion of your muggle Isles too. One could argue that she died for the Greater Good, but even in this instance one has to recognise that Good and Evil are opposite points on a circle, and the Greater Good is just halfway back to Bad." Albus dropped his hand, and the tendrils of magic disappeared.

"It is impossible to say whether her sacrifice was good or bad, Petunia. She saved us all, but damned you and me. So we have to ask ourselves: whose happiness is of more importance, that of the several million people she saved or the three people she damned?" Albus shrugged - a gesture he was sure he had not done since his early twenties. "Evil and good, black and white, dark and light; these polar opposites cannot be measured in such simple terms. There is no right answer, Aunt."

Petunia looked lost. Albus leaned against the cupboard under the stairs that had long since become nothing more than that - a cupboard under the stairs and let out a deep breath. "What is done is done. Whether it was good or bad? I think we can leave that to the philosophers."

Petunia swallowed hard, looking as though she would very much like to burst into tears. "Spoken like a true utilitarian," she finally said with a snort and Albus' shoulders dropped in defeat, knowing that that was possibly an accurate description of himself - and possibly his greatest fault.

"You are my only link to her left," she finally said when he didn't answer. "Try to stay out of trouble, Harry."

Albus smiled, and like that, all the tenseness of the situation disappeared. "Oh you know me, Petunia, I always keep out of trouble." And with a wink, he swept past her into the kitchen.

It seemed that even now, years after Vernon had been imprisoned, a remnant of Petunia's prejudices towards wizarding folk still remained.

Albus, Dudley and Petunia were currently loading the wizarding trunk onto a trolly - Albus had already advised Fawkes to join him at Hogwarts so that they would be able to avoid the stares and crowds, something that saddened Dudley to no end as he had grown rather fond of the creature. As they neared the portal between the muggle world and the wizarding King's Cross, Albus saw an increasingly dirty look appear on Petunia's face.

He regarded her with interest, wondering why she truly held so much hate towards wizard kind. Had Vernon indoctrinated her that very much?

Dudley was positively beaming as they crossed the portal to the other side, taking in everything with childish awe that Albus now rarely saw in him. "Harry! Look - is that boy carrying a toad?" Dudley cried, pointing and oohing and ahhing.

"What did we say about pointing?" Albus asked, glancing down at the blond. Dudley ignored him in favour of bouncing around, continuing to ooh and ahh. Grinning at him, Albus lead the way to the trunk carriage. Easily picking the large trunk up (courtesy of a feather-light charm from Minerva) he stowed it in the carriage. Then picked up his travelling bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Petunia's eyes were suspiciously red as Dudley threw his arms around his cousin and Albus almost began suspecting her of actually feeling for him. He, in turn, tightly hugged his cousin back, and promised to write every week so that the muggle boy wouldn't miss a single aspect of his life.

"No smoking, no swearing, no-"

"Gangs, no alcohol before I'm of age. Yes, I get it Harry, 'be good'.

It's not like you're leaving forever," Dudley said with a snort. Albus chuckled and ruffled his hair. Dudley pulled away indignantly. Even so, Albus saw tears prickling in the boy's eyes

Once Dudley had disappeared into the masses ("Did you see that? A tarantula? Oh my-") and had promised to come back in a few moments, Petunia turned to face Harry. The corners of her mouth had turned upwards slightly, and she was holding a suspiciously moist handkerchief.

"We have not always seen eye-to-eye," she began, but Albus interrupted her swiftly.

"Alas, we have not."

"But-" Her voice broke a little, and she very suddenly swooped down to hug him. Surprised, Albus' arms hovered in mid-air for a moment, uncertain how to proceed. Then he slowly placed his hands on her bony back. "Be safe," she whispered into his ear. A few moments later she separated herself from him and stepped back. Without another word, Albus turned and entered the familiar scarlet Hogwarts Express.

Being one of the last to board it, it took him some time to find a carriage that was not packed with students. He found one compartment at the very end which was completely empty. He pulled the door open and slumped rather ungracefully into one of the seats.

Pulling his bag to him, he was surprised to find it heavier than it had previously been and upon opening it, found a large plastic bag, nearly bursting with sherbet lemons.

Odd. That had not been there before.

Hesitantly, Albus pulled the bag out and examined it - they looked like legitimately real muggle sherbet lemons. And as far as he could tell, there weren't any enchantments on the drops; it wasn't like anyone was attempting to poison him. Oddly, the only other two people in this world who knew of his obsession with the muggle sweet, were Petunia and Dudley. Except -

Albus' head shot up in sudden realisation, both cognate and magical, as he had suddenly sensed a second presence in the compartment.

A man, whom he previously completely overlooked, sat opposite him, smiling widely. He was twirling a wand between his fingers. His hair was wavy and his eyes were a brilliant silver; a side-effect of the Philosopher's Stone, no doubt.

"Harry Potter," Nicolas Flamel stated, still grinning. "You always did have a knack for getting in trouble, didn't you Albus?" The wizard in question had almost launched himself at his ancient friend in silent delight, but refrained, and simply dropped the bag of sweets into his lap, eagerly opening it now that he knew from whom it came.

"Nicolas, it's so wonderful to see you again," Albus said so earnestly that even Flamel cocked his head a little, trying to discern wether or not he was being sarcastic.

'''Again ' being an odd adverb of choice, as I remember quite clearly dropping your body into a coffin," Flamel said bluntly, not beating about the bush. Albus surmised that after six hundred years of life, there would come a time when even simple pleasantries became quite tedious indeed.

"Yes, a peculiar situation certainly." Albus was most-certainly beating about the bush, a quality he remembered that Nicolas hated. The alchemist was in-fact giving him a deadpan stare this very moment.

"Would you mind...?" Albus asked, gesturing at the door. In one sweeping moment, Nicolas warded the door, making sure that no student would be able to overhear them.

"My magic will require a bit of practice to develop so fully once more," he said by way of explanation.

"Yes, about that - what exactly happened?" Nicholas was staring at him with distrust dancing in his eyes. To see that in his mentor was a frightening thing.

"I died at the age of 115 years atop of the Astronomy Tower, when I was cornered by Death-Eaters and finally killed by Severus Snape," Albus said in a deceptively light tone. "Then, four years ago, I woke up as one Harry James Potter; without a wand, without my developed magic, without proper adult cognitive function. From my observations I gleaned that the Dumbledore here died-"

"four years ago," Nicolas finished for him, leaning in closer to observe Albus more fully.

"Exactly." He sighed. "This led me to believe that I had somehow ended up in a parallel universe and that Magic herself had intervened to balance out my existence in said universe with the Other Dumbledore's."

Nicolas hummed in agreement, and gestured Albus to continue. "This of course, gives me an advantage: as this isn't a permanent time-line and instead, in flux, I don't stand at the risk of deleting someone's future."

"Which means you can use your preexisting knowledge to win a war that hasn't even started yet," the alchemist easily concluded. Albus nodded and popped a sherbet lemon in his mouth.

"What prompted you to believe me?" Albus asked offering his companion a sweet, which he refused. Nicolas chuckled.

"My vault was broken into days after I emptied it."

"Ah, yes."

"Fawkes also made an impression. He seemed quite set on trusting you and demanding an answer from me. So finally I promised I would visit you on your way to Hogwarts," Nicolas laughed as a dawning expression crossed Albus' face. "It seems Fawkes is as mischievous as ever."

"That he is," Albus murmured as they descended into a companionable silence.

"You mentioned a Tom Riddle in your letter," Nicolas finally said, breaking the silence. Albus sighed as memories of that boy swam before his eyes. Only he was not a boy any-longer. Now, he was a spirit, probably in process of ensnaring Quirrell into his services. He wondered briefly if he would be at Hogwarts, as Tom's original motivation for being in there had been to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Now that it was secure elsewhere, where would Tom Riddle go?

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, is, as you know an anagram for 'I am Lord Voldemort'," he started. "In my time-line Tom's spirit found a victim in the trom of Quirinius Quirrel. Possessing him, he took the post as the Defence of the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts and he attempted to steal the Philosopher's stone. Our very own Harry Potter defended it quite admirably.

"Tom spent the following years sneaking back into the school, attempting to regain a physical body. He was resurrected in 1995, when he concocted an elaborate plot to kill Harry and use his blood to counteract the protection that was his mother's sacrifice. Harry escaped yet again."

"Naturally," Nicolas said with an eye-roll. Albus chuckled darkly.

"Finally, he was exposed in the Summer of 1996, when I duelled him in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The Minister now had no grounds to continue ignoring the threat upon us. War begun in earnest and I deduced a massive secret that I had suspected for a long time."

Albus swallowed heavily and with his magic he probed the wards again, aware that he had only ever told one person the secret of the Horcruxes and that had been Harry himself. There was not a single soul other than Albus in this universe, who knew of the ways that Tom had mutilated his soul.

"When Tom Riddle was just sixteen years old, he created his first Horcrux in the form of a diary," Albus said bluntly, something that was very unlike him. Nicolas started blinking rapidly and his briefly stroked his short beard.

"His first ?"

"Seven in all."

Nicolas let out a low whistle. "There is not a single shred of humanity or sanity left in him," the man scratched the back of his head for a moment, seemingly calculating something. "His last Horcrux would have been one-twenty-eighth of the original, if we presume that the soul is halves every time it is split." Again, Nicolas examined him, eyes finally resting on the scar that adorned Albus' forehead.

"And one-twenty-eighth resides in there," he murmured, gesturing with his chin at the scar. Albus' eyes twinkled.

"Sharp as ever, Nicolas." He clasped his hands together.

"Fortunately, his last Horcrux was created in 1994 so, Harry's scar contains one-sixty-fourth-"

"And you need my help to destroy it without killing you, correct?" Nicolas interrupted him swiftly, before Albus could run off on one of his rants detailing the theoretical aspects of the magic of Horcruxes.

"Precisely." Albus sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Maybe then I can do it better this time and... deal with Tom sooner."

"You can't save everyone, Albus."

"Careful, Nicolas, you're starting to sound rather like me," when he received no answer, he looked up only to find that the world-renown Alchemist was gone.

It was only seconds later, that a knock sounded on the compartment door, jerking Albus out of his dark thoughts that threatened to overtake him. Hastily, he disentangled and took down the wards and was just in time as a moment after, a young witch threw the door open. Her intelligent eyes surveyed Albus and then dropped on the wand.

"Doing magic?" Hermione Granger asked excitedly, stalking into the compartment and taking the seat that Nicolas had just vacated. A timid Neville followed her in. Albus chuckled, eyes brightening at her eagerness. Neville smiled at him shyly and sat down when Hermione patted the seat next to her.

"Very much so!" He waved his trustworthy wand in a sweeping arch, mainly for show as he visualised the most fantastic bouquet. In an instant, the envisioned collection of flowers sprouted out of the tip of his wand. Catching it before it fell, he gave it to Hermione who blushed slightly upon accepting the gift.

"Brilliant!" Neville exclaimed, examining the bouquet with interest, and Albus remembered faintly that they boy had an affinity with plants.

"Oh! Neville, we've forgotten your toad!" Miss Granger suddenly exclaimed.

"His toad?" Albus questioned lightly.

"Trevor! We were looking for Trevor!" Neville's eyes were suddenly wide and preoccupied. "My gran will kill me if she finds out l've lost him again!"

"Ah, I very much doubt she would resort to such measures," Albus said kindly, completely missing the fatalistic sense of humour. "No matter! However, why must we search for Trevor like muggles." He continued in a whisper: "When we have magic!" He shot out of his seat and raced out into the hallway - which was now thankfully almost empty. The two other students followed close behind.

Turning towards Neville once more he asked: "Trevor was it?" The other boy nodded. Noting that the two first years were watching his every movement very closely, he once more raised his wand and intoned very carefully, " Accio Trevor !"

Whilst the orchideous charm was something that required little skill, or magical power, only proper visualisation, the summoning charm was a whole story altogether. It required one to stretch out one's magic, and let it, in turn seek for the object one wished to summon to oneself. It required every ounce of his concentration to manipulate his as of yet still underdeveloped magic core to do his bidding. And when after several moments, nothing happened, he began to doubt that he had as good a control over his magic as he had originally thought.

But then, came a shout from ahead and they saw a fifth year student jump to the side in shock only for an abnormally large toad to streak right past him. Directing his wand at Neville's already open hands, he gently directed his magic to guide the amphibian into his hands.

The boy's face instantly brightened. Hermione, however, while looking delighted, was also giving him an odd calculating stare.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she finally said, shaking Albus' hand Neville grinned and nodded to him in greeting, as his arms were full with Trevor.

"My name's Neville Longbottom."

Even after four years as Harry Potter, Albus still had trouble calling himself as such and almost stumbled over the words. He halted for a moment and watched Hermione's frown grow. Finally: "My name is Harry Potter."

The gasps were instantaneous and he found himself instantly mildly irritated. In the four years he had lived with the Dursleys, he had become used to the sense of anonymity. It seemed Harry Potter had not had any during all of his years at Hogwarts. He only wished wizards were more tactful like muggles liked to be.

"Harry Potter!" Hermione reiterated and was about to continue with some sort of statement (presumably about how she had read about him) when she was very rudely cut off but a long drawl.

" Harry Potter? A mudblood like you doesn't even deserve to say the name!" They had all turned in that instant to see Draco Malfoy sauntering up the hallway, flanked by two other future Slytherin boys.

An instant hot rage flared up within Albus. His hate of prejudiced purebloods had originated when observing his father's utter regard for muggle lives when he attempted to kill the boys who had attacked his dear Ariana.

"You dare call Hermione with that name?" His tone was light as ever, but there was a gravitas that instantly silenced the guffaws and the gasps of outrage coming from the compartments in the nearest vicinity (other first and second years who were watching on with scandalous expressions).

"You dare," Albus repeated. Calming himself, he stared directly at Draco who was looking defiantly back at him. His journey in this world had begun when Draco cornered him and disarmed him atop the Astronomy Tower; an innocent boy who had been taught to hate by those he had trusted.

"Who were Severus Snape's parents?" He finally asked the Malfoy.

Draco swallowed heavily, but then fixed him with a glare.

"A Prince and a muggle," he licked his lips nervously now, knowing that he was in a precarious position.

"Would you saw he is any less powerful or intelligent than say, perhaps, your father?" Again, Draco seemed to be caught between the truth and what he had been brought up to believe.

"No," he said after several moments.

"And what of Harry Potter?" A small smile crossed Albus' lips when he saw Neville and Hermione both give him sidelong glance. "Would you call him a mudblood ?"

"Of course not!" Draco looked a little panicked now. He started looking around, seemingly wondering if Harry Potter was anywhere in sight.

"Alas! But his father was a pureblood and his mother a muggleborn-"

"-But he's Harry Potter !" Draco interrupted him, sounding a tad hysterical. He, like all the other children of the wizarding world had been brought up on the stories of Harry Potter: The Creature Vault, or Harry Potter: The Yeti, that told of his heroism. Even in a dark wizarding household, these books and these stories would have been inescapable.

"You agree then, that intelligence, power, has to be proven on basis of the person's ability and not his or her blood?"

Draco hung his head in defeat, and yet, when Albus managed to hold eye-contact for a brief moment and reach out with his magic to skim over the surface of his turbulent emotions and mind, he found defiance prominently standing out. Pulling out of his mind and sighing, Albus realised that eleven years of prejudice would not be undone in one five minute conversation.

Albus was stunned when a few seconds later, Draco reached out with a hand. "Draco Malfoy," he said self-assuredly. He was now gazing at Albus with a scrutinous look, like one might when one finds a worthy opponent.

Harry took the hand and with a wink and a twinkle in his eye and said: "Harry Potter."

The rest of the ride towards Hogwarts was as uneventful as a train without adult supervision and several hundred hormonal children with magic could be. Albus somehow managed to skip from compartment to compartment, meeting his new fellow year mates.

He met an interesting boy named Wayne Hopkins who he found out, had only recently recuperated from a severe case of Dragon Pox.

This had thrown him into a fresh trip down memory-lane: on his very first ride to Hogwarts, he had found himself suddenly sitting with Elphias Doge, who like Wayne had just recently had the very same illness. No single person had sat with Elphias Doge that day due to fear of being contaminated and it had allowed Albus and him to cement a life-long friendship.

Not for the first time, Albus found himself wondering what had happened to his dear friend. He and Elphias had gone through much together. They had lived through two wars and had even played chess via owl mail when long distances were between them. He had been the single sole person who had never been awed by Albus' magical ability, brushing it off like it was just another natural happenstance.

He had also spoken briefly to a Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, who while both very pleasant in nature, had too been indoctrinated with the doctrine that might, was right . And as such, Albus ended up walking down to the boats in an intense conversation with Lisa Turpin about whether or not Gilderoy Lockhart deserved the Ravishingly Outstanding Bevy of (fashionable) Ensembles (ROBE) award for best clothing style of the year.

Soon enough, Albus sat in a boat with three other students that he recognised as Ronald Weasley, Kevin Entwhistle and Daphne Greengrass. He sat there, ignoring all other conversations as he stared in peace at the wonderful castle that loomed above them. He heard several gasps from muggleborns and purebloods alike, as they stared ahead in childish wonder.

Hogwarts. He had spent his childhood there, all of his teenage years and had then returned as a seasoned wizard, having fought in the war and had then served at at the school for another sixty or so years. If there was anything that he could compare with a home, then it was Hogwarts. The familiar magic of the castle swept over him as they crossed the sturdy wards and he felt his magic singing in response to that.

The castle's sentient magic probed at him too, evidently seeing something familiar in him. Albus core hummed with pleasure and he felt a foreign jolt of surprise coming from the castle as it - or rather, she - realised exactly who he was. Then, all of a sudden, before Albus could reacquaint himself with the castle, there sounded a loud scream, followed by a splash and lots of gasps and spluttering.

The boat with Ronald, Kevin, Daphne and himself was a little ahead the rest of the little cluster of first years and as such they had to turn to see what the commotion was about. Instantly upon seeing what was going on, a small smile creeped onto Albus' face. Just a few feet behind their boat, two other of the old, rickety wooden things had completely overturned and Hagrid was now attempting to fish the first years out of the water, pun fully intended.

The Giant Squid was what had prompted so many screams and gasps of surprise. It had evidently risen out of the water and was attempting to push the first year students back into, or rather, onto their overturned boats. Evidently the Merpeople were having their fun again. Albus realised that he would have to give them a stern talking to. Whist Minerva seemed like an exceptional Headmistress of Hogwarts, she simply did not know how to speak Mermish.

It took them several moments to get to shore, and several others to warm the soaking students up. Albus was eventually forced to mutter several drying spells under his breath and direct his wand upon his fellow students. They all gasped in surprise when they noticed how dry and warm they suddenly were, unknowing where the magic had come from. And from the small, speculative glance Miss Granger gave him, Albus felt as though he hadn't been as discreet as he had thought he'd been.

Then, Filius arrived - now the Deputy Headmaster - and gave them a small speech about house unity, which sounded to Albus very much as though Minerva had conjured it.

And then, finally they crossed the Entrance Hall, and entered the Great Hall, where the Sorting Hat now sat on the stool, staring ominously at the group of first years. Gazing up at the sky above them, Albus allowed his eyes to shut for a moment or two as he drank the magic in. Regardless of what house he would be placed in, and what the future would bring, he could honestly say that he had not felt this at peace for many, many years.

And so with a skip in his step, Albus and the rest of the first years approached the ragged-looking old hat.

Elsewhere, in darkness, a spirit swayed gently in the breeze. It was only very faintly present in this world. It was but a fragment of a soul that had once inhabited this realm, but now no longer had a good hold on it. And yet, a darkness so powerful surrounded it, that the very forest around it, had begun to rot. This darkness permeated the air, the soil and the trees. It seeped through every crack, like a magical stream of water.

And out of this darkness, emerged a figure; a wizard judging by his long robe that swept the forest floor. He was dressed in a thick traveling robe and had a weathered rucksack slung over one shoulder. The wizard was whistling, completely unaware of the danger he was putting himself in. Then, pulling out a map, he frowned when he saw that the little red dot that was supposed to him, now stood in the opposite direction in which he had wanted to walk.

Shrugging, he tucked the map back into his bag and turned to go back to his original standing point, when he was stopped by the sight of a shadow of a man standing suspended before him. The shroud of darkness was partly translucent and looked like some sort of Dementor from another world.

Quirinius Quirrell's lower lip trembled slightly as he flicked his wrist to the side. Almost instantly, a wand appeared in his hand. Very slowly, he raised it, pointing it directly at... whatever this thing was.

"Quirinius Quirrell..." The shadow spoke slowly, almost in a hiss.

Quirrell's hold on his wand tightened to the point that his knuckles became white with tension.

"Who are you? I demand you tell me who you are!" He called forcefully, feeling like he was anything but that. The shadow seemed to chuckle in sadistic mirth.

"My name is irrelevant..." Again, it's voice was a hiss and seemed so very out-of-this-world. Then, all of a sudden, two eyes seemed to pop out from the darkness, red and bright with power. "But I remember who I am!" With that hiss, the figure lunged at Quirinius.

Yes, so to equate the balance, Magic too transported Voldemort to this time-line. *rubs hands together* I'm enjoying torturing y'all like this, bet you thought this would be a 'Albus-improving-canon' fic?

You thought wrong! HA!

1 literally a fact in the wikia.

Pretty much all facts in this story are historical facts or from the Harry Potter wikia.

(Hello i just what to let you know that this history is not mine i just re publish it since is have been delete for a long perod of time and no one has republish this history before)