Despite what many would think, Albus Dumbledore was more than accustomed to being shouted at. Most people would assume that the man who defeated Gellert Grindlewald, and the one whom Voldemort feared above all, would scare others away from screaming at him. In fact, quite the opposite was true; throughout his many, many years alive he had been privy to many arguments and vitriol laid at his feet. From petty squabbling sibling were wont to do, the ravage grief of losing a loved one and being blamed, to Minerva reminding him that people were not in fact "blasted pawns to play his blasted game that nobody but him could blasted see." Or something to that effect; the words themselves altered but the context remained steady.
The worst were the parents in his mind.
Again, he had many types of insults and shrieking aimed at him, but nary of them could surpass the pure acrimonious that one painted parents could produce.
On another level to the one calmly taking the brunt of abuse, he couldn't help but think to himself: I don't know why I'm surprised, she was acerbic when she was alive.
If anyone were to have entered the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts of Witchcraft and Wizadry, amongst the cluttered of whirring machines and eye watering colours, there would be an even curiouser sight.
A tall and lithe man, lounging in an armchair, his legs crossed and idly twirling a scarlet feather as he watched on with a languid smirk at his old friend, the great Albus Dumbledore, cringing at a screaming portrait.
The portrait in question was rather large, although basic in nature: no ornate frame nor intrinsically detailed background. Just two people in a forest clearing; one being the centre of attention, her red hair glinting in the painted sunlight, although the faint sound of crackling could be heard over her yelling, her sparkling emerald eyes as wild as her flung out gestures. The man however, although was also steaming, looked adoringly up at her from his spot on the floor, his head in his hands. That is not to say he was wholly absent in this one sided conversation - he'd throw in additional charges for his wife to add to the fire, and then glower darkly at the slightly cowering man.
It was times like this Albus remembered why the Potters were so valued in the Order of the Phoenix. But also, guiltily, couldn't help but hold some relief that they were only portraits, and not flesh and blood in front of him. Lily Potter's ingenuity with Charms and Potions set a bar that was, and could be, both beautiful and destructive, several times having saved operations with her inventions. James Potter however, despite his family being Light on the majority, still could radiate a darkness that slowly seeped into any crevice it could find.
Albus thought it was due to Dorea Black's inheritance, although he couldn't be certain. But, in all honesty, nobody came away from that family sane, and James Potter belonged to that Ancient Family.
After all, this was a man who quite happily entertained the idea of he and his friends becoming Animagi at the tender age of fifteen with no guidance or expertise. It was amazing what his students could do without his knowledge at times.
So, due to the two figures lambasting him, he became quite aware that he may have gone too far this time.
"- so bloody stupid! Clearly Wizards have been overestimating themselves in our ability to live so long without recompense as it clearly...Addles...the mind!" Lily screeched, the leaves behind her lifting in a Magical wind (which he wasn't aware could be done - he must look into that). "I mean honestly! Leaving the fucking Philosopher's Stone in the fucking school, where any immortality driven moron could find it, where the fucking student who fucking blasted him to literal nothing, fucking attends!"
"Please stop using that word, Lily." Ifan drawled, still fiddling with the Phoenix feather. At Albus' grateful look, he bared his teeth in a smile as he added, "there is more crude vocabulary you could choose from. Expand."
"That's not very helpful, Ifan." Albus chided with a frown before flinching as Lily screeched again in anger.
"Neither was keeping not one but two agents of the bastard who killed us!"
"Technically..." James began thoughtfully, "It was three." At everyone's questioning look he rolled his eyes as he blithely jumped to his feet. "Snape...you know? Tall git, blank lanky hair and looks like a hawk? Total slimy dick. Ring any bells?" He asked, dodging a hit to the head by Lily only to wince as she jabbed him in the ribs instead.
"Don't talk about him like that! You know he turned spy!" She spat, making James take a step back with eyes wide and arms up in surrender.
"How did you know that?" Albus injected, rather happy of the reprieve of his character being lambasted.
"Ah that would be me." Came the droll reply as Ifan gracefully got to his feet and crossed to the mantlepiece, flicking at the random items on there. "Oh, don't give me that look, Albus. They had suspicions when they were alive, now they're dead. Who've they going to tell?"
"How did you know?" Albus grumbled, wanting to shuffle his feet in aggravation. Eleven years he had his spy, and within one he'd been found out as if it were nothing.
Ifan raised an eyebrow and threw a look at him. "Didn't take a genius. We suddenly had Intel on attacks prior to them happening and you hired a barely graduated boy to be a ruddy Potions professor. And not one you favoured either. Honestly, it'd be rather depressing if nobody saw that."
"Hmm. But that's what makes it so brilliant. He's obvious so he can clearly work for both sides. Nobody and everybody would question his true allegiance."
James snorted, "Really? That's what you're going with? We weren't exactly subtle but even we knew to create just enough room for doubt. You've just painted a target on his back."
"Why, James, it sounds almost like you care. I'm so happy." Albus smiled, clasping his hands together.
"He's entrusted to protect my daughter. Of course I fucking care." He growled, stepping closer to the front. "But make no mistake, I couldn't give a flying fuck about the man himself, except that if he gets himself killed my daughter will get the fallout. I - we - need him alive." He narrowed his eyes at his old Headmaster, breathing heavily. "So you putting her in the way of danger is really not helpful. Because I'll be honest, Dumbledore...if I was alive right now, you'd be sprawled on the fucking floor."
"And you'd be well in your right to do so. It would not be the first time I've been at the receiving end of a right hook." Dumbledore calmly said with a genteel smile, it falling away as James chuckled darkly.
"I don't think he was referring to a physical assault, Albus." Lily intoned with crossed arms, her hair still crackling.
Albus' face drained of colour as the insinuation hit home as he flustered out a response. "You'd try to use an Unforgiveable, James? I don't think you'd be able to, my boy. It is after all not an easy feat. Tom is rather unique in his ability to do so repeatedly."
James' grin turned feral as he bared his teeth. "You forget, Albus, my best friend is a Black. He was raised on those spells. And trust me, I could easily summon the hate to cast the Torture Spell." As Albus subtly swallowed, James leaned back with a smirk. "I'd do anything for my daughter. I've already killed for the Order. A small Crucio is hardly more damaging to my chipped soul."
Albus sighed in response, taking his spectacles off to clean them. It was always his biggest regret, asking for his fellow rebels to kill in their cause. And as much as he favoured the Marauders when they were students themselves, as they grew into adults, he couldn't deny that darkness resided inside of them. And Sirius' growing use of Dark Magic in the War exacerbated his own; which was why he hardly doubted a defection to Voldemort. He had, after all, been raised on the ideals he spouted.
"I think," Ifan interrupted the tense silence, "we need to discuss the ramifications of what happened when Aster met Quirrell. We need to talk about everything. And Albus? No more prevarication. We've lost a decade with her due to your machinations. That ends now." He said, his own eyes sparking, the shadows around him growing in response before he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
Albus nodded solemnly as he moved to sit behind his desk. "Yes. I suppose you're right." He sighed as he looked out the window, his shoulders slumping minutely.
"Tom...he was a remarkable child. An orphan, whom when he turned eleven, I found in a downtrodden orphanage in London. I had heard from the owner, a wisened Mrs Wool, that he was ostracised by the other inhabitants. He stole from them, you see, and threatened them.
"When he came to Hogwarts, he was enamoured by her. I could see the hope shine in him: here he could belong. But then he was sorted into Slytherin, an orphaned boy with a Muggle name, into the House renowned for its Pureblood Elite. He was cast into the role of outcast once more. He was a Slytherin so the other Houses were wary of him, as so many favoured Grindlewald. He had no friends.
"But then, in his Third Year - if I recall correctly - something changed. He was more confident, and others began to...cater to him. It was most unusual."
"He found out his heritage, didn't he?" Lily asked, leaning against James, as he curled an arm around her shoulders.
Albus nodded. "Yes, I believe so. For the next two years he gained...followers, I suppose. And in Fifth Year the Chamber of Secrets was opened. A girl died, a Muggleborn. I had my suspicions he was involved, but had no proof. Although when I told him that Hogwarts would shut and the attacks suddenly stopped, I was quite certain of my deduction. He would always ask to stay behind for the summers, citing the Blitz in London so as not to risk going back to the city. Each time he was refused."
Albus fell into silence, thinking of the young, handsome and charismatic boy who strode through the halls with perfectly coiffed hair, his robes precisely pressed and worn. Even at the beginning, when he wore little more than rags, he ensured he looked as pristine as possible. Did he make things worse, he couldn't help but wonder. If he had been more open with him, didn't set his wardrobe aflame at their introduction, would he have a different path? He liked to think not - after all, it would mean he was complicit in the creation of a Dark Lord arguably worse than Gellert. At least he only hated Muggles - any Wizard or Witch, of any Blood Status, were welcomed into the fold.
"What happened after? His final years and after he graduated?" James' question brought him back to the present, wiping away the fog of memories of decades long past.
"I'm not entirely sure. I've been trying to find out, hunting down people who could help. All I know is that after he graduated he worked at Borgin and Burkes for a time before disappearing. And when he returned? Tom Riddle was dead, and Voldemort was born."
"And the carnage began." Ifan said succinctly, running a finger across his top lip in thought. "Of course, he didn't start the murders right away," he told the painting, taking over from Albus as he saw his friend struggle to continue. "From my understanding, it was...recruitment. He would visit the echelons of society, seducing them into his cult." He snorted, recalling the young man strutting like a peacock. "He was a puffed up ninny, honestly." Ifan smirked, remembering the way he swaggered into any room. "That's not to say that crimes weren't committed, of course. There were disappearances who suddenly turned up battered to an inch of their life with no memory of what happened, barring flashes." Ifan cleared his throat, before continuing, "and then the missing persons would turn up dead. And it kept happening; whole houses blown apart, families scattered into the wind - sometimes literally. It was...chaos."
Ifan closed his eyes as memories of screams echoed throughout the office, reverberating inside the corners of his mind. Children wailing for their mothers before abruptly falling silent, women begging for the lives of their loved ones, men falling at the feet of others to do anything to protect their family.
"Then it extended past the Wizarding World and Muggles. Voldemort began to intercept into the lives of Creatures, promising recognition and equality." He rolled his eyes, chuckling darkly. "For the most part Fae such as I didn't entertain him, but those such as the Wolves and Vampires were enthralled. After all, they has more reason to speak to Wizards. Kobolds were interested although an actual alliance wouldn't be made. It would ensure their allegiance and they care nought for those but themselves."
They all lapsed into silence, lost in their own memories of terror. For James, the memory of Sirius and Remus holding him back as he screamed in anguish as his parents burned in his childhood home, the smell of acrid smoke forever in his nose. Clutching his infant daughter to him as he wept silently, swearing to himself that she would live; even if everyone else burned.
Lily had a myriad of memories blended together, the message from her parents begging her to come home, that they thought they were being watched. The Dark Mark hovering over the deceptively in tact house, the green leeching into the living room, her parents bodies twisted, their faces stuck in silent screams in death. The wailing of her older sister, hurling abuse as she disowned her. The fear of finding out she was pregnant, knowing that her daughter would always have a target on her back. James coming home stinking of smoke and firewhiskey.
Gods, what were they going to do? For ten years little had happened, although it was an open secret for those of the Order of the Phoenix, that the Pureblood Agenda was still plotted, legislation was passed that isolated those against the Circle, condemning them into subservience. For ten years barely any whispers of His return were heard, but now with the events of the past week - the past year - the followers of Voldemort would more than likely kick-start events to recreate their past glories. And there was no way to know for sure what atrocities they would create, not without endangering Snape.
They couldn't help but think that this was only the beginning.
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