(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)Thank you for all of your kind encouragements!

Thank you for all of your kind encouragements!

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 etc. As the story progresses, I shall have to add more warnings.

"My young man!" Vernon exclaimed when he came home. Dudley had come running towards him, launching himself at the man with glee. The slightly overweight man was forced to drop his case and pile of mail that he had brought into the house with him, to be able to support Dudley's weight as the boy hung from his neck like some sort of orangutang. Albus watched this interaction from the open kitchen door that led to the hallway.

"How was your day at school, eh? Little Tyke?" Vernon dropped the muggle boy back onto his feet and kissed his wife briefly before she gently pulled off his overcoat: it was starting to get cold outside, after all

Dudley started to excitedly tell him all about what had happened during break, acting like a little angel son. Albus mourned for the boy who sought out so much approval from his parents, and received pampering in return. From his extensive experience with children, Albus derived that the only thing that Dudley wanted was to be taken seriously from his parents.

"And then the freak-"

Uh-oh.

Albus pursed his lips. Of course Dudley would have to bring that up.

Approval from his parents, indeed, he muttered to himself.

"... Mrs Vipond wants him to take a test to see if he should be put in a higher year," the muggle boy was saying excitedly, now that he noticed that he had his father's full attention.

"She does, does she," Vernon said calmly from the doorway to the kitchen - Albus hadn't even heard him approach and he stiffened.

There was an underlying layer of hate imbued in the man's voice. At this moment he wished very much that he had his magic back and that he could practice legimency so that he could determine what the muggle was thinking.

A hand clamped on his shoulder painfully, and Albus knew suddenly that that was going to bruise. His own father had never been violent with his three children, but he had been known to use some extra force where none was needed.

"You think you're smart, do you, boy?" Vernon said maliciously, dragging him down the hallway. Albus fought back, trying to put as much space as he could between himself and the wizard-hating muggle. Vernon had an iron-clad hold on him, though, and there was nothing his seven year old, magic-less body could do to fight back.

As he jerked and twitched in Vernon's hold, he saw Petunia shamefully disappearing into the kitchen, evidently too afraid of Vernon's dominance. Dudley watched on eagerly, if a little hesitantly, for putting his cousin in such a predicament.

Then the front door was swung open and Harry was pushed through it, wearing nothing but his thick socks, trousers and too-large muggle shirt. He landed arse-first in the snow and briefly thanked merlin for the small cushioning that the wintery white coat of snow provided for him. Vernon stood in the doorway for a moment, and then without a word, slammed the door shut.

Albus stood up after a moment, and brushed off the snow from his clothes, trying his best to remain as dry as possible for the time being. Remorse welled up within him again: he had placed Harry in this abusive, neglectful household. How could he have not listened to his trusted friend Minerva? How had he been stupid enough to leave Harry with these people. He had been safe from Death Eaters and the like, but he had certainly not been protected from the Sighing deeply, Albus wondered what to do next: Vernon was certainly not going to let him into the house until the next morning and it was snowing heavily. Soon, night would fall, and he would be shelterless, left to freeze until morning. Ah! Did Arabella Figg not live close-by? Wincing as pain radiated up his feet and towards his spine as he stepped out onto the cold street, Albus started walking in that general direction. He had only made it to the end of the street, when a muggle car rolled to a stop beside him.

Curiosity killed the cat; he found himself staring through the front window into a familiar face: Mrs Vipond. Her eyes widened when his face turned to meet her probing stare and she too, recognised him.

The window was instantly rolled down and she stared down at him in "Harry! Oh my lord!" She opened the door to her car, rushed out, opened the back door and rushed him in. He sat down in the plush car seat, trying to remember when the last time was that he had sat in one of these contraptions. Several decades, he surmised. Mrs. Vipond, however it seemed, was not going down memory lane. She turned around in her seat, staring wide-eyed at him.

"Who left you outside like that?" she demanded, voice sounding very authoritative - a contrast to her classroom-voice, which was kind and encouraging.

Almost instantly, Albus' strategical mind leapt to various ways he could take advantage of the situation. Vernon was a vile man - there was no point of return in him; he was vile by nature. Albus had previously thought that no man was without redemption if he truly wanted it, but Vernon... alas, it seemed Albus had finally found the exception to the rule. Petunia and Dudley, however, he mused, could still become the pleasant people that they had the potential to be.

"My uncle, Vernon," he replied naively, feeling a little bad for manipulating the teacher like so. But if she heard him talk as he usually did, ah, he would potentially scare her away. "He threw me out when my cousin told him about your proposal to have me placed in another year."

Her face grew red with rage and disbelief that a man could do such a thing to his nephew. "By God," she whispered to herself. "I am not taking you back there, do you understand, Harry? We're going to go report this."

Five hours later, child services had arrived and inspected the house.

Notes had been taken, reports had been made, and Vernon had been arrested. A court date had been set for later that month, and yet, Petunia, Dudley and himself had been told with utter certainty by the child services officer, that Vernon would be getting up to ten years in prison.

Not vindictive in nature, Albus surprised himself when regret pooled in his stomach at the fact that Vernon would not be going somewhere like Azkaban. But it was understandable, he supposed, as he had loved Harry very deeply and had never known-

A knot of emotions suddenly clogged up his throat as he imagined

Harry living through all of this and then appearing at Hogwarts, neglected and never remembering someone loving him. Suddenly Harry's selfless and forgiving... and loving nature was all too well explainable. His thirst for acceptance had placed him in Gryffindor with his very first friend. He had given his love so freely to so many people.

Albus swallowed the tears and emotions that kept creeping to his consciousness; this only got worse when he heard Dudley in the living room speaking with his mother, whilst Albus leaned against the kitchen counter. "Daddy's not coming back?"

Petunias's reply was too quiet for Albus to properly interpret and he once more lamented his current lack of magical ability. But soon he heard gentle sobs coming from the living room and the small reassurances that Petunia kept giving her son. Albus' mouth was dry as he buried his face in his hands; he had taken a child's father from him

But it was necessary, he told himself. It was necessary.

The exams he was put through were long and quite boring. Albus had already been a prodigy in his own time; respected and sometimes even feared by his own classmates. He had breezed through Hogwarts, attaining praise, prizes and respect. And that had been his temptation: his thirst for power had been his weakness, which was why he had ultimately settled for becoming a teacher, where his weakness wouldn't fester into something more vile and destructive as it had within Gellert.

But if he had been a prodigy back then, well now he was something most humans could never even attain: a second life, a second set of memories, more experience, more knowledge. Of course, the muggles didn't know that, so when he got his results back via post at Privet Drive, where he had now been given the second bedroom, even Petunia had let out a gasp of surprise when she saw the results.

Albus had been advanced into year seven - he, a seven year old, would be in classes with students almost double his age. Dudley, however would be staying behind in year one. Clutching this piece of news in a letter, he arrived home with a bit of a smile. No purple-faced Vernon to greet him, no abundance of chores, only Petunia.

Dudley trailed somewhat more behind him as they got off the bus. Ever since Vernon had been taken away by the police less than two weeks ago, Dudley had been considerably calmer and, dare he say it, mature.

It seemed that now, Vernon's oppressive standards were no longer there and Dudley didn't really seem to know what ideal to follow. The door to the house opened before they had even reached the front garden and Petunia stood in the middle of the doorway; she was wiping her hands on an apron. She ignored Albus as he passed by her (which was an improvement from the scathing glares) and in turn hugged her son very, very tightly as though he had just come back a soldier from a dangerous battle.

Albus dropped his school-bag (which Petunia had dug out for him from somewhere in the attic) near the base of the stairs before strolling into the kitchen. As soon as it had become known that Vernon would not be returning home for at least ten years, the attitude towards him had changed in the entire household. Petunia had offered him the second bedroom, she had given him a bed and better-fitting clothes to wear along with the books that had been left unread in the attic and even some of Dudley's old toys that he never used anymore.

She had also curiously stopped giving him lists with chores and instead settled for making breakfast herself and allowing him to eat at the table. Dudley had complained a few times at first, but then seeing no approving smirks or nods, he had dropped the matter altogether.

"You got your exam results back... Harry?" Petunia asked tentatively as she and Dudley entered the kitchen (the latter instantly going to the fridge). Albus cocked his head to the side in bemusement. Had Vernon really had such an influence over her actions and thoughts?

Had he really terrorised her so very much? He reached into the inside of his pocket and placed the formal letter on the table. Petunia sat down next to him and reached for the envelope. She slowly unfolded the documents within and with each line, her eyes grew wider and wider.

"I have been placed in year seven," he said calmly, his green eyes boring into her gaze. There was no twinkle in them now. "The teachers were quite concerned about me having difficulties connecting with students my age, so I was placed in seventh year as opposed to a higher school level." He knew it sounded odd, hearing such an old form of speech coming from such a youthful voice, but if Petunia was going to take him seriously, she would have to understand exactly what intellect he had. She was blinking at him in slight shock and Albus was reminded of a gaping fish. *1

"I need the signature of my guardian," he continued pointedly looking down at the letter. He wished, not for the first or last time that he could access his magic enough to use the mind arts, but it was not to

"Yes, yes, of course." Swallowing harshly, Petunia reached for a ballpoint pen and quickly scribbled her name a few times on a few different lines.

And a single month later, the Dursley household received a letter from child services and another from the state, saying that Vernon had been sentenced to ten years in Pentonville, leaving a troubled but satisfied Albus and a surprisingly relieved Petunia.

Petunia's apology for all the ways she had acted against her nephew seemed to manifest as small or even large actions; every day things.

When she went out to get new uniforms, she would come back with several extra sets for Albus too, when she cooked, she cooked enough for three, and when Dudley attempted to make fun of Albus, she would put a stop to it. It seemed now, for the first time ever, she was now finally following the demands that Dumbledore had left in the letter when he had placed Harry on her doorstep.

Eventually, she started to even out the amount of chores between Dudley, herself and Albus and even went to work to be able to sustain the family. While life was somewhat more subdued now than it had been before, when Vernon had lived in the house, it was also calmer and more at peace. There weren't any more loud play-dates, and the telly wasn't a constant in their lives any longer. Even the unhealthy food didn't make an appearance on the table.

Slowly, Dudley started to thin out; with the help of the karate lessons he took, he had started to earn more muscle than fat and had surprisingly achieved a more balanced inner spirit. Albus, had in contrast, attained more healthy mass and he had started to train his core to be more flexible when it came to magic. He spent hours upon hours, in class, on the bus and elsewhere, simply training his magic to redirect to various parts of his body, healing the years of neglect and emotional hatred. And slowly, over the years, he started to shoot up in height like a weed, something that he was very glad for as he had been very fond of his unusual height in his previous life.

He supposed he had found some solace in having an older cousin, but their dynamic had turned into something more of 'reluctant brothers' and Albus, being the mature one, had automatically taken the older brother role. Harry and Dudley were nine - two years since Vernon's incarceration - when Albus found himself suddenly taking Dudley under his wing: whether it was chasing away bullies or helping him out with his homework, he found himself getting increasingly more invested in Dudley's life and development.

Petunia had stumbled in on them a few times, with a laundry basket, or a phone in hand as she chatted to one of her girlfriends; and Albus had secretly noted the small smile crossing her lips when she saw Albus helping his cousin to read, or teaching him about the latest science experiment that Dudley had not understood in his science class. Somehow, Albus saw Dudley as a chance to fully become a big brother - something he had neglected to do with Abeforth and Ariana. He had always been so obsessed with his own image, his own successes, that he had never stopped to think about them, about the lack of a figurehead in the family once his father had been convicted for attacking the muggle boys who had attacked Ariana, and his mother who had died during one of Ariana's seizures.

Now was his chance to put a stop to a festering hate within a family; and he could do it by in turn loving Dudley, which he found he soon started to do. The boy wasn't all that bright, or talented in any specific art, but there was a kindness in him and a thirst to prove himself to his mother and Albus, that had been so deeply buried under his idolisation of his father, that Albus had very easily overseen it at first.

"That's perfect, Big-D," he said with a smile as Dudley finished a particularly hard arithmetic sum. It always gave teachers a thrill when their students finally understood a specific topic. "I think that's enough for the day, don't you?" Albus asked his cousin, eyes twinkling. Dudley gave an exasperated sigh.

"Finally!" He dropped the notebook back into his bag and turned to stare out the window of the school bus that was taking them home.

Albus chuckled and patted Dudley's knee a few times.

"We'll make a mathematician out of you yet!"

"Doubt it," Dudley said with a groan.

"You needn't be so dramatic about it," Albus said with a frown, but his eyes were twinkling merrily. In response to that, Dudley simply mimicked plunging a sword into his chest. He feigned unconsciousness.

"Maths has finally done me in," he whispered, cracking one eye open while Albus regarded him fondly. The bus rolled to a stop and a few people got out. Noting that they were only a few streets away from Privet Drive, Albus quickly grabbed Dudley's bag and his own and beckoned him to the doors before they shut. They spilled out onto the pavement just as the doors were closing.

"We're nowhere near home, Harry!" Dudley whined, grabbing his bag back. Albus chuckled and reached down to the ground, grabbing a freshly fallen handful of snow.

"Nowhere near, no. But-" he laughed and threw the ball of snow at Dudley who was completely unprepared and stared at him in shock for a moment or two as he tried to process what that cold liquid was that was trickling down his spine, "-we're just in time to be the first to use all of this," he gestured at the snow surrounding them, "for our epic snowball fight."

"Oh you-" Dudley shouted in mock-betrayal. With a huge grin plastered upon his face, the young boy took two armfuls of snow and attempted to dump them on Albus, but he had already swiftly spun away and had started to jog down the street.

They arrived home sweaty and bright red, but chuckling and in good spirits. Also very soaked through. Petunia ushered them in, smiling herself, unable to chastise them properly and forced them to take taking hot baths to stop a cold from taking hold.

A full year later, when he was ten (or rather, Harry's body was ten), Albus had sensing his magical core more and more. It's largeness was starting to expand day by day and Albus was starting to have trouble keeping it under control. It responded to his emotions more readily and liked to peek out from under his usual iron-clad control and make itself known. If Petunia noticed anything, she didn't

Nevertheless, this gave Albus the chance to finally start using the powers that he had used for a better part of a hundred and ten years. He spent a few hours meditating each night, bending the magic to his will, making it circulate through his body, practicing with coils of pure magic that circled his room, weaving between books and various objects that cluttered the smallest bedroom of the

It seemed that in this life, Albus was once more destined for great power as he saw no stopping in the way Harry's magical core kept on expanding and expanding. And yet, he knew from his own experience that brute force was nothing without knowledge. To him, it had always seemed that the weakest of wizards could win duels against the most powerful with quick, street smarts, well aimed curses and original ideas.

And using this newfound power, Albus started training in the mind arts. There was little he could do without a wand, of course. But occlumency walls were something that had to be done psychically and with the help of one's inner magic, not a simple incantation.

Spells and techniques like legilimency, however, would have to wait as they were only practicable with a wand - at least, until he had regained a similar iron-clad control over his magic as he had had in his previous life.

However, even now that he had magic to use (sometimes even useful levitation and such if he had the concentration for it!), he had no owl, and no way to Diagon Alley without arousing suspicion.

Therefore the wizarding world remained cut off from him, leaving him to wait impatiently for the 31st of July when his first Hogwarts letter came.

However, it seemed that magic itself did not want to wait as long as he was prepared to wait for it.

It was a Sunday evening and their small family was having a Sunday roast dinner; a small tradition they had after mass (which Petunia insisted they went to every week). Albus had just finished reading through his Shakespeare text (apparently muggles were quite fond of his plays and insisted on studying him all through school) and Dudley was still doing last-minute studying for a test the next whilst intermittently stuffing his mouth full of mashed potatoes.

Petunia was keeping up polite conversation with Harry about the Prime Minister (who had just been reelected) whose policies had become very controversial throughout England. Her ideas of privatisation and isolationism had very effectively turned the people (especially of the north) against her. A small fire was crackling away in the far side of the living room and the general atmosphere was quite calm, when all of a sudden, a large, fiery blur raced through the open window, knocking down a vase which had been standing on the windowsill. Dudley gave a shout of surprise and looked up in time to see (and hear) Petunia shrieking in fear and Albus staring at the creature that was now doing quick laps around the room.*2

His eyes widened as he recognised exactly who the creature was and sped after it - after him, giving Petunia a shout of 'I'll take care of it!' when she moved to help him. Almost as though he knew, Fawkes bolted towards Albus' room and by the time he had reached it, he found his companion from another life perched on a stack of book at his desk, peering at Albus with curiosity.

Shutting the door behind him, Albus slowly approached the creature.

"Hello, old friend," he said somewhat sadly. Fawkes was his only link to whatever life he had led before... only this Fawkes probably didn't even know him as the Albus Dumbledore who had died on top of the Astronomy Tower, this one only knew the present Dumbledore.

Albus gently reached out with his hand and stroked the bird's soft plumage. Fawkes preened and leaned into his touch, welcoming it.

The bird was somewhat dirty, Albus noted, and then horrified he discovered several twisted feathers. Making a small gesture of 'may I?' he started plucking those odd feathers out. How had Dumbledore of this world allowed Fawkes to become so neglected.

Before he could even think to ask Fawkes any questions, a series of imaged crossed his inner mind and he gasped as he saw various short sequences of events that had taken place at Hogwarts three years ago, exactly when Albus himself had woken up as Harry Potter. He gasped as he watched, through Fawkes' eyes, as Dumbledore convulsed in his sleep, evidently having some sort of seizure, before slowly slipping away. His face relaxed and a small smile appeared on his face as he welcomed death. The following sequences that appeared in his mind were of Minerva becoming headmistress and then of Fawkes flying around the world in despair, crying songs of lament for his fallen master and friend.

When Fawkes finally detached himself from Albus' mind, he found that tears had silently started to traverse down his cheeks. "My dear Fawkes, your lament has honoured me beyond understanding," he said quietly.

The phoenix trilled to show that he did, in fact understand. Albus slumped down in the chair sitting at his desk and the creature instantly dropped itself in his lap. After a moment, Albus noticed that Fawkes was brushing against his magic which, the wizard supposed was a welcome feeling for him after going so long thinking that his master was gone.

"I am not him," Albus finally forced himself to say. He truly was not the Albus that had died here three years ago. From what he could tell, this was the last piece of evidence that fully supported his theory that this was an alternate universe in which the Dumbledore here never lived to regret any decisions he had made regarding Harry.

He, himself was a more mature Albus, his magic was somewhat darker, and his attitude was perhaps a little less idealistic.

Fawkes sent him an impulse of magic, showing he understood

"May-Maybe," Albus' voice broke somewhat uncharacteristically, "If you track me down at Hogwarts, we can bond again, if you so wish." Fawkes cocked his head to the side, regarding Albus with that intelligent expression of his.

"But right now," Albus gestured at the general direction of the living room where it seemed Petunia and Dudley had stayed. "Petunia would only grow afraid of me and the magic she would realise that I possess, old friend."

Fawkes trilled in quiet understanding and he bobbed his head sadly.

Then, Albus gently placed him on the table and opened the window directly in front of the desk. He tenderly ran his fingers through the plumage one last time and then the phoenix launched out of the window, and then disappeared out of sight.

"So long, my friend, until we see each other again," Albus murmured into the night.

1 year seven is comparable with seventh or sixth grade in the US and most European countries. Students are generally between 12 and 13 years old.

2 the prime minister mentioned is Margaret Thatcher

My kindergarten teacher was called Mrs. Vipond. She taught me how to read kudos to her

Lemme know what you think! (particularly of Albus' relationship witl Dudley - I find it adorable and keep grinning like a fool when I write them)