Chapter One: Lost

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.� ~Henry David Thoreau

The bright sun roamed high overhead, throwing its sparkling rays across the verdant landscape in a glittering dance of reds and yellows. The sky was vibrant sapphire, marred only by pale wisps of grey clouds floating lazily in the ocean of blue. A soft breeze barely tickled the tops of a forest of trees, while the shadows underneath were left to languish in the stifling warmth that reached even into the shade and doused everything in waves of summer heat.

A lone figure approached the edge of the small forest, striding on foot along a path dotted with wildflowers and rocks. He wore loose-fitting purple robes, charmed to repel the oppressive heat, and carried a stout oak walking stick, carved with scrolls and whirls. He moved with a sense of direction, but a weariness weighed on his shoulders as if he walked reluctantly toward his destination. With a sigh he took off his spectacles to wipe them clean of the dust the dry road kicked up as he walked. Replacing them atop his crooked nose, he entered the dim eaves of the woods and continued on his journey.

After several months away, Albus Dumbledore was finally returning home. He had Apparated to a small town several miles from Hogsmeade, and in spite of the unusual heat wave had decided to walk the short distance to Hogwarts. He needed some quiet time alone with the many thoughts and memories that tumbled about his mind.

Currently he strode through a small forest on the outskirts of a sleepy Muggle village. He had traveled through this part of the country several times, and remembered the path well: it wound through the forest for several miles, crossing over a meandering stream before passing through an empty clearing. It eventually lead back into a vast field that stretched to Hogsmeade, and joined with the road to the castle. The trees offered only slight respite from the heat; their shaded branches at least dimmed the harsh sun that had beat at his back as he had crossed the open moors surrounding the woods. The sounds of the forest reached through his hazy thoughts and for several moments he gave himself over to their quiet peace; soft breezes, chirping insects, and bubbling brooks slowly calmed his busy mind.

As he walked, Albus began to thoughtfully ponder the events of the past several months. The end of the Muggle war had been violent but decisive, and with it the Wizarding world had stepped up its own offensive against the Dark wizard who had threatened the magical community. The final battle with Grindelwald was three months past, but Albus still woke in a sweat, dreams of the death and destruction he had witnessed on the battlefield leaving him lying awake for hours.

With another sigh he contemplated the heartbreaking aftermath: so many lives now gone, lost to the senseless war. There had been hundreds of dead and wounded to remove from the field: witches and wizards, young and old, friends and strangers. The magical community mourned heavy losses, while still trying to recover from the divisive prejudices of Grindelwald’s pureblood ideology. The sad cleanup had been followed by endless meetings first with the International Confederation of Wizards, and then with Britain’s own Ministry of Magic. Upon his return to London, he had been quietly offered the position of Minister for Magic; but Albus knew his heart lay with Hogwarts, and had graciously turned down the generous proposal. He wished to remain with his students, begin his new partnership with Nicholas Flamel, and continue to watch over the mysterious Tom Riddle.

Yet after leaving London he had decided to journey across the country first, to personally meet with the families of all those who had been lost in the grim fight with Grindelwald. These witches and wizards had placed their fate in his hands, and though the battle had been won, a great many lives had been lost as the price for that victory. Albus had visited dozens of Wizarding families over the course of the past month. He had expressed countless condolences, thanking each husband and wife for their sacrifice, comforting each brother or sister on their loss, assuring each child of their future place at Hogwarts. He had just met with the Potter family, whose youngest son had been killed in the battle. It had been his final visit, and Albus found himself both mentally and physically exhausted by the demanding task he had set himself; it was a feeling that was new to him, and unsettling. By nightfall he hoped to reach Hogsmeade, to visit with his brother Aberforth before returning to the castle and the comfort of his own bed.

However, while Albus was looking forward to returning to his rooms at Hogwarts, he had been gone for so many months that he also dreaded the homecoming. It had been five years since his wife had died, but Albus still felt the pain of Cathryn’s absence every day he roamed the grounds; it still felt empty without her. Her death had helped propel him into the long struggle with Grindelwald, a battle that had kept him occupied for five years. In some ways the effort had filled the hole in his life where Cathryn had been; but now that the Dark wizard was defeated, Albus felt that void opening once more, and the emptiness threatened to return upon his arrival at Hogwarts.

Albus strolled absently along the forest path, his mind absorbed with thoughts of Cathryn: of their wedding five years ago in the Great Hall, of their trip to Brodick Castle, and of the fateful night when she had been killed by Muggle bombers in London on the eve of the Blitz. He wondered what he might find on his return to Hogwarts: how was Hagrid getting on with the gameskeeper? Was Nicholas Flamel ready to begin their work together? What was Tom Riddle doing after graduation? From the present his thoughts moved to the future, to a world free of the oppressive pureblood doctrine of Grindelwald and his followers. He hoped for many years of peaceful work and study, but a nagging inner voice marred his hope with doubt.

As he walked, Albus became lost in his thoughts. His normally perceptive ears did not hear the sounds of the woodland gradually fade away; his bright eyes did not notice the sunlight fading. His feet carried him along the path as his mind wandered, and he did not realize he had crossed the small stream and entered the clearing. He only happened to glance up by chance and was surprised to see that the clearing he remembered was no longer empty: directly in front of him stood a dilapidated old wooden building.

Albus frowned as he stopped in his tracks, startled by the strange appearance of the mysterious structure: a well-worn, two-story house with a rickety steps leading up to broad porch, the building appeared to have been there for years, and yet Albus had never come across it in all of his travels through the forest. A wooden sign hung from a post nearby, painted with the image of a faded green dragon holding a cluster of violet grapes in its mouth. It appeared to be an inn of sorts, though it was of a type not seen in England for hundreds of years, and surely he would have come across it if it had been there for so long.

As Albus stood and stared at the unusual sight, an old man came stomping out of the house. He walked with a limp, dragging his left foot slightly behind him. His face was lined and shrewd looking, with piercing black eyes staring moodily out from under a shock of scrubby white hair that stuck up at odd angles. His nose appeared to have been broken several times, and his mouth was creased with frown lines. He wore coarse robes of woven grey wool in a style not seen for centuries, and exuded an air of brusqueness.

The old man stopped at the top of the stairs. “Well, come in, for Merlin’s sake. You’re late.� His voice was abrupt and gruff sounding, like that of a many who didn’t speak very often.

Albus instinctively turned to see if the stranger was speaking to someone behind him. The old man had already started back into the house. “Yes, I’m talking to you. Let’s go, storm’s coming.� Albus glanced up in surprise, and watched as dark clouds began rolling in overhead. He saw the tops of the trees begin to sway, as the wind picked up and began to whip the grass in the clearing.

“Fine, get soaked, what do I care,� the man snapped from the doorway. “Damn fools always take their time coming in, I’ll never understand it. I’ll be inside, should you care to join me anytime soon.� He stomped back inside, slamming the door behind him.

With a loud crack, an angry bolt of lightening unleashed a torrent of summer rain from the dark sky, startling Albus out of his reticence. He darted toward the dilapidated old building, curiously wondering what the mysterious inn held in store for him.

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A/N: Albus Dumbledore’s wife Cathryn was introduced in the story Portrait of a Love Lost. His final battle with Grindelwald and his first meeting with Nicholas Flamel was portrayed in the story Many Meetings. Should you care to read more of the history I have given one of my favorite characters, I would be honored if you read these stories.

Thank you to my lovely hardworking beta, myownmuggle, for continuing to look over my work!

Chapter Two: Past

“Eternity is not something that begins after you are dead. It is going on all the time.� ~Charlotte Perkins Gilman

The interior of the run-down inn shamed its shabby exterior. Albus had expected a dirty, smoke-filled great room, crowded with wooden tables and benches, strewn with straw and rotten food. Instead he stepped through the doorway into a bright, airy room that was clean and cozy, with a high ceiling that made it feel bigger than it actually was. A fire was burning in the large hearth nearby, but had obviously been charmed because it added neither heat nor smoke to the room. The floor was clean, the walls bare but for a beautiful tapestry hanging opposite the door. Small tables were scattered around the room, each set with simple dishes and plain napkins. To the right was a long bar, where the strange innkeeper stood, glaring at his guest.

“Expecting something dull, dark, and dirty, weren’t you?� grumbled the old man. “Everyone does, you’re no different.�

“I apologize,� Albus said, glancing around with a small smile. The door shut behind him, locking out the sounds of a fierce storm outside. “The exterior leaves much to the imagination that the interior then contradicts. It is lovely.�

“Queer sort of compliment, but thanks,� said the man, setting two glasses on the bar. He began pouring a frothy amber liquid into both glasses, and then stopped. “Ale okay with you?� he asked bluntly.

Albus nodded as he joined the man at the bar. The innkeeper motioned to a table instead, and Albus sat down and rested his weary feet. The old man soon joined him, setting the glasses on the table with a heavy hand. “I’d have expected someone like you to know better than to judge something so casually. What appears on the outside does not always appear on the inside.�

Albus raised his eyebrow as he took a sip of his drink; he coughed, for it was strong, and he wiped foam from his lips. “Someone like me?� he asked, wondering what the strange man knew about him.

The innkeeper pierced him with a sharp look. “You’re obviously a powerful wizard. You’re making your way back to Hogsmeade so you’re probably a teacher at the school. You’ve got white hair and spectacles and look to be approaching the century mark. It doesn’t take a fool to see you’re Albus Dumbledore.�

Albus inclined his head to the other man’s power of perception. “You, however, have me at a disadvantage.�

“Blenkinsop Waterbut,� the man replied. “And this is the Green Dragon, my inn.�

“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Waterbut,� said Albus, glancing around once more at the cozy inn. “Although I must admit I have never seen or heard of the Green Dragon before, and I have traveled this road many times.�

“You weren’t looking then, were you?� asked Waterbut pointedly. He stood and stumped to the bar, where he refilled his glass. “Want another?� he asked.

Albus shook his head politely, indicating that his glass was still half full. “I wasn’t looking for an inn today either,� he offered, curious about the man’s remark. Waterbut returned to the table and grunted.

“Only someone looking for the Green Dragon walks through that door, so you were looking, whether you knew it or not.� He took a deep pull at his ale, and then stared shrewdly at his guest.

“I see,� said Albus, though he did not.

The innkeeper laughed, a harsh bark that had very little humor in it. “Sure you do. But you will, don’t worry. The Inn has its reasons, and no one has ever left without understanding.�

Albus studied the strange man before him and for a moment wondered if he had stumbled into some strange dream world, or if he was having a vision. He was certain the Inn had not been there the last time he had passed through the forest. He was also certain he hadn’t been looking – or even thinking – about such a place as he walked. His mind had been wandering along far too many other paths to even consider finding a place in which to stop and rest.

“That’s why you’re here,� interrupted Waterbut. “Too much on your mind – you need to slow down, and figure things out.�

Albus was once again startled by the man’s uncanny ability to perceive his innermost thoughts. He considered throwing up the mental shields he had learned while studying Occlumency, but something about the strange man and his mysterious inn told Albus he had nothing to fear. “What do I need to figure out?� he asked, wondering if he would get a straight answer.

He did not. “That’s for you to learn, not me,� answered Waterbut, and he gave Albus a hard grin. “Maybe she can help you. I imagine that’s why she’s here.� He motioned toward a table in the corner, then stood and returned to the bar, busying himself with cleaning. Albus turned around and glanced at a woman sitting in the corner.

It was his wife, Cathryn.

Albus sat rooted to the spot, staring in disbelief. She was no ghost, but an actual living, breathing person, sitting but two feet from him and smiling. She looked exactly the same as she had at their wedding: her dark brown hair was braided to frame her pale face, and her grey eyes twinkled in amusement at his surprise. She was wearing pale blue robes so light they almost matched her eyes, and she absently touched the silver wedding band on her finger.

Albus slowly walked over to the table, still speechless. Cathryn stood and embraced him, and he melted into her arms, five years of longing threatening to overwhelm him. He stepped back and looked into her eyes, his own shining with tears that he hastily brushed away.

“I don’t understand,� he whispered. “How is this possible? Are you real?�

“I’m what you need me to be, Albus,� she answered enigmatically, pulling him into a chair at the table with a smile. “That’s all that matters right now. You needed me, and I am here.�

“I’ve needed you for the past five years!� he exclaimed, taking her hand and caressing it. It was warm, not the cold hand of death that he had last felt, in the rubble of the bombing that had taken her life. “Why now?�

Cathryn smiled sadly. “Because now your journey is over, and you have to move on. You’ve defeated Grindelwald, and it’s time to return to the life you lead before the war, before I died.�

Albus stared at her, confused. “I know that,� he said, not understanding.

“But you haven’t accepted it yet,� she said softly, gazing into his eyes. “I know my death motivated you to join the resistance against Grindelwald. I know how you’ve thrown yourself into defeating him these past five years. And I know that now that it’s over, you’re lost.�

“I’m not lost,� Albus protested. “I may be a bit more pensive than usual today, but not lost.�

Cathryn arched a delicate eyebrow at him, and his heart ached with missing the amused expression on her face. “Really? Is that why you’ve avoided going back to Hogwarts? You’ve been traipsing across the country putting it off for months now.�

Once more Albus felt the need to protest, although he sensed she might be onto something. “I was visiting the families of those who had died in the battle,� he began. Cathryn cut him off.

“And that’s why you’re walking back to the castle in the middle of a heat wave, when you could have Apparated to Hogsmeade immediately?� she interrupted. Albus was silent, and she laughed softly. “You know it’s true. You’re delaying your return. I know you, Albus. You’ve been gone so long it hurts to go back now.�

Albus finally nodded, admitting she was right. “I grew used to your absence once; I don’t think I can do it again.�

Cathryn sighed and took his hand once more. “You can, and you must. Hogwarts is where you belong. You know that.�

“There are other places I might like to explore,� Albus offered, knowing it was a lie. Hogwarts was his home, whether Cathryn was there or not. She was right when she said he was only trying to put off his return.

She laughed at him again. “Oh, Albus, I had forgotten how stubborn you were sometimes. Fine, then you must go back because there is still much for you to do at Hogwarts.�

“Such as?� he asked, wondering if she would tell him.

“It is not for me to say,� she replied, and for some reason he was not surprised. “Although we both know that you will be headmaster one day, and perhaps sooner than you think.�

Albus titled his head, thoughtfully staring into space. “I could be Minster for Magic,� he told her, waiting for her reaction. She raised her eyebrows at him, a skeptical expression on her face, and for the first time in days – weeks, even – Albus laughed.

“You’d be dreadful,� Cathryn told him dryly.

“That’s what I told them,� he replied, winking at her. “Although I fail to see how I would make a better headmaster.�

“You will, someday,� she said softly, looking away.

Albus sighed; there was no getting around it. “And what about you? Will I see you again?�

Cathryn gave him her most innocent look. “You never know, Albus. After all, ’Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice.’�

He replied automatically, “’But for those who wait, time is eternity.’� It was the inscription from her wedding gift to him, a beautiful gold pocket watch that had been broken in the terrible accident which had taken her life.

“Go back to Hogwarts, Albus. It’s where you belong.� Cathryn stood, and Albus joined her, reluctant to let her leave.

“I’d love to know what great destiny awaits me upon my return,� he suggested lightly, hoping she would stay to reveal more. Instead she kissed him on the cheek.

“Perhaps a bit, so that you can be assured in your fate.� She kissed him soundly then, and Albus took her in his arms, all the love he felt for her rushing into that last, final embrace. Finally she stepped back, somewhat breathless. She held her hand up to her mouth and smiled. “Goodbye, Albus. You will find your way, and I will see you again.� She stepped away from him and gradually faded away into nothingness. The inn was empty once again.

Albus returned to his seat and closed his eyes with a sigh as he thought about Cathryn’s cryptic words. After several moments he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into the glittering black eyes of the innkeeper, staring down at him with a strange mixture of pity and kindness.

“Care for another drink?� Waterbut asked quietly, his gruff tone tempered with compassion. Albus nodded soundlessly, and the innkeeper stepped away, returning with a glass of Firewhisky instead. Albus nodded in appreciation and took a small sip of the tawny liquid. It slid smoothly down his throat to warm his insides and he relaxed as a small puff of smoke escaped his lips.

“Thank you,� he finally told Waterbut.

“You’re welcome,� the innkeeper replied, gruff once more. “Figured you’d need it, especially since you’ve got another visitor.� He once again motioned toward a table, set against the back wall under the tapestry. A young man sat at the table, studying the tapestry with practiced interest. He had dark hair and dark eyes and his face was handsome and proud.

With a start of surprise, Albus realized that it was Tom Riddle.

* * *

A/N: The quotation from the watch which Cathryn gave to Albus is by Henry Van Dyke. My continued thanks to my wonderful beta, myownmuggle!

Chapter Three: Present

“In today already walks tomorrow. ~Friedrich von Schiller

“Good afternoon, Professor,� said Tom Riddle, standing and extending his hand as Albus neared the table. “It is good to see you again.�

Albus inclined his head with a smile. “And to see you, Tom. May I join your table?�

Tom nodded and indicated the chair across from him. “Of course, Professor.�

Albus sat down and studied the boy in front of him; he suddenly realized that Tom was no longer a boy, but a young man fully graduated from Hogwarts. He carried himself with the same arrogant poise, though he currently checked the disdainful expression he had worn at school. Albus noticed he still wore the heavy gold ring, set with a black stone, that he had begun wearing during his sixth year; Tom saw him eyeing it, and offered an answer to Albus’s unanswered question.

“It is a family heirloom,� he shrugged with a casual indifference that seemed somewhat forced.

“I wasn’t aware you had found any family,� Albus replied politely.

“I haven’t,� countered Riddle, narrowing his eyes. “I didn’t say it was my own family’s heirloom.�

“Of course,� murmured Albus. He remembered how Tom had enjoyed playing word games, verbally sparring with clever turns of phrase whenever he could. Albus decided he would not pursue this particular round, knowing that Tom was sensitive about his family, and moved on. “So what have you decided to do after graduation?� he asked, curious about the path this remarkable yet cunning young man might decide to follow.

Tom paused and took a sip from the glass in front of him. “I’ve accepted a position at Borgin and Burkes,� he finally admitted, watching his former teacher closely.

Albus made sure no sign of surprise reached his face. “And what will you be doing for them?� he continued, his voice pleasantly interested.

“I have been assigned to assist in procuring those rare and valuable artifacts that the shop specializes in,� replied Tom, still waiting for any sign of a reaction. Albus gave him the smallest reward by raising his eyebrows, and Tom smiled, his eyes glittering.

“Congratulations are in order, then,� said Albus, and was himself rewarded as a look of surprise passed across his former student’s face. He raised his glass in a small toast. “To your first employment.�

“Thank you, Professor,� acknowledged Tom, his face an unreadable mask once more. “Though I am surprised to find you so encouraging.�

“I support my students, Tom, in all their endeavors.� Albus paused, waiting for his words to sink in, and once again the barest hint of a reaction passed across the young man’s face. “I do admit, however, that I am somewhat taken aback by yours. I had anticipated your going into the Ministry. I believe Professor Slughorn had his heart set on it, in fact. He likes to send them his best and brightest.�

Tom shrugged, ignoring the compliment. “I am not cut out for the Ministry. I don’t believe it would be the right place for me just now.�

Albus laughed, and enjoyed the slightly irritated look on Tom’s face as he did. “That’s what I told them myself,� he said with a wink. “It appears the Ministry has lost two good wizards this summer.�

“The Ministry offered you a position?� asked Riddle, and Albus could hear the curiosity in the boy’s voice. He nodded, waiting for his former student to ask more; Tom may have decided against joining the Ministry, but he was still ambitious. He sought knowledge almost as much as he sought power. “May I ask what position they hoped you might accept?�

“Minister for Magic, of course,� replied Albus, and Riddle’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before narrowing. He tilted his head and frowned.

“Why did you turn it down?� he asked bluntly, then added, “Sir.�

“As you said, I did not think it would be the right place for me just now,� Albus answered lightly. “There are still many things I should like to do at Hogwarts.�

Tom’s face briefly darkened at the mention of Hogwarts, and Albus filed the reaction away for later thought. The boy was silent for a long moment. “Hogwarts is fortunate to have you sir,� he finally said. His voice lowered the smallest bit. “I will miss the castle.�

Albus raised his eyebrows at Riddle’s uncharacteristic admission. He had watched the young man’s career at school very closely, and wondered what Tom would miss about Hogwarts other than the group of followers whom he controlled with an almost dictatorial relish. Then again, it was probably more of a home to him than the orphanage where he had grown up, and it was possible he was truly sorry to be leaving. Perhaps that was the reason he had approached the headmaster about staying on as a faculty member. Albus decided to pursue the topic, not expecting a solid answer but hoping to garner some insight into Tom’s enigmatic character.

“Is that why you asked Headmaster Dippet about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?� he asked, careful to keep his voice neutral.

Tom narrowed his eyes at Albus, as if immediately aware of the older man’s purpose in questioning him. He titled his head again and gave Albus a mysterious smile. “One reason, perhaps. I have learned much at Hogwarts, and would enjoy the opportunity to pass it on to those most deserving of my knowledge. However, the headmaster declined my offer.�

Albus thought about his answer before he spoke. “Perhaps he felt a bit more experience would be prudent before venturing back into the muddy waters of teaching others what we think we have learned.�

“I’ve had plenty of experience,� Tom snapped with a rare display of open hostility. “I’ve done things no man has done for years.� Albus couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows once more at the young man’s irritation, while also wondering what experiences the gifted young wizard might be referring to. Tom Riddle had a great deal more skill than most of the other students at Hogwarts; he also held an uncommonly high view of himself and his talent. His ego and ambition, however, had not learned that temperance and wisdom which came from a lifetime of experience, and this more than anything had lead Albus to strongly advise against the recent graduate returning to Hogwarts to teach.

“I understand the headmaster advised you to inquire again in a few years. Perhaps your new position will enable you to gain the experience which will grant you a position with the staff at Hogwarts.� Albus watched Tom closely for another uncharacteristic outburst, but he had clamped down on his momentary anger and merely nodded his head.

“Of course, sir. I fully intend to return, and I hope that when I do I will have your support. I want nothing more than to continue the legacy of great teaching at Hogwarts.� Tom spoke these last words as if issuing a challenge, and Albus smiled. He hid his concern over the boy’s almost alarming sense of entitlement and self-confidence; Tom Riddle was a Slytherin, after all, and his ambition could still be channeled toward greater achievements than his own personal gain.

He was about to reply when he noticed that Tom was staring blankly into space, his eyes unblinking. “Tom? Are you all right?� he asked, concerned. The boy did not move, and Albus was startled when Blenkinsop Waterbut suddenly appeared beside him, watching the frozen young man with his shrewd black eyes.

“He’s lying, you know,� said the innkeeper. “Every word out of his mouth is touched by it. Can’t you sense the Dark Magic in him yet?�

Albus frowned, and reached out with his magical perceptions to see if he could find what Waterbut was referring to. It was faint, but it was there: the boy had certainly learned how to control Dark Magic, though he hid it well. “Is that why he’s here?� Albus asked, disappointed in Tom and somewhat confused by the strange turn the conversation had taken.

“This one needs to be kept under watch. Mark my word: he’s evil in the making.�

Albus shook his head, stubbornly refusing to accept such a thing. “I’ve been watching him for years. He may be ambitious, cunning, and even cruel, but he’s not evil.�

“Look in his eyes, you fool,� snapped the gruff old man. “Fear and hatred. It consumes him, it drives him, and it will twist him. It’s already started.� The innkeeper stomped back toward the bar. “Keep your eye on him, Dumbledore. When he comes looking for a job, don’t let him near your school. Even now he’s no longer the untrained boy you found at the orphanage seven years ago, he’s a powerful young wizard named Lord Voldemort, and everything you’ve fought so hard against these past years will pale next to the death and destruction that Lord Voldemort will bring upon the world.�

Albus stared at the frozen figure of Tom Riddle, stunned. Surely the innkeeper was exaggerating: Tom Riddle was many things, but he was not a killer. Waterbut gave a barking laugh from where he stood. “Sure he is. How do you think he got that ring?� The innkeeper waved his hand, and Riddle faded away, leaving Albus alone at the table, speechless: had Tom committed murder already?

“How bad will it be?� he finally asked.

“Bad enough,� replied Waterbut as he returned. He placed a cup of tea in front of Albus and shrugged. “Voldemort will go down in history as the most feared wizard of the century, not Grindelwald. Your duel with the German pretender will be child’s play compared to your battles with Tom Riddle.�

“Battles?� Albus took a sip of steaming hot tea, letting the warm liquid fill the coldness in his chest as he contemplated the bleak future Waterbut was revealing.

“He’ll be a tough one to bring down, just so you know. It will take many years. Be prepared.� Waterbut turned and stomped back to the bar once more. “Fortunately, you’ll have help.� He waved his hand behind him toward the doorway, and Albus was not surprised to see someone enter; he did not, however, recognize the new visitor to the inn.

He was a tall young man, with somewhat messy black hair and startling green eyes. He wore round glasses, and Albus noticed a vivid lightning-shaped scar on the young man’s forehead. The stranger glanced around the inn, his emerald eyes searching for something or someone; suddenly he grinned and hurried over to where Albus was still seated.

“Hello, Professor!� he exclaimed as Albus stood to greet him. The young man threw his arms around Albus in a crushing embrace. “Welcome back.�

Albus stepped out of the embrace and stared inquiringly at the young man, who obviously knew him though they had never met.

“Albus Dumbledore,� called Waterbut from the bar, “meet Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.�

* * *

A/N: My continued thanks to myownmuggle for her quick beta work on this chapter!

Chapter Four – Future

Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to, with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present. ~Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

Albus lead the young man back to his table and offered him a chair. He signaled to the innkeeper, who stomped over and handed the boy a bottle of butterbeer while refilling Albus’s cup of tea.

“Thanks, Mr. Waterbut,� said the young man with a grin as he opened the bottle and took a deep drink. Albus raised his eyebrow at the boy’s unexpected familiarity with the innkeeper.

“Potter,� acknowledged Waterbut curtly. “Good to see you again.� He ignored Albus’s questioning glance and hurried back over to the bar. Albus sipped at his tea, studying the young man once more. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. What a strange title for such a seemingly normal young man. Yet as he watched the boy, he sensed there was something remarkable about him, just under the surface.

“It seems I am at the disadvantage once more,� began Albus, wanting to know more about the boy. “You appear to be quite familiar with me, but I’m afraid I don’t recognize you.�

The boy grinned again, and his green eyes smiled with him. “Yes, I know you.� His voice took on a rhythm, as if he were reciting something. “Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.� The boy winked. “And I happen to know you have a fondness for lemon drops as well.�

Albus was momentarily speechless, and the boy laughed at his reaction. “It’s your chocolate frog card, sir. It was the first one I ever collected, on the Hogwarts Express my first year.�

Albus was startled out of his amazement and laughed as well. “My chocolate frog card! Nicholas was right then – he said the business with Grindelwald would make a good card. I am glad to hear our partnership turns out well, since we haven’t even begun yet. Tell me, how do I know you?�

The young man nodded in understanding. “Of course, we haven’t met, not yet. I’m Harry Potter. I was a student at Hogwarts while you were headmaster.�

Albus sighed in mock consternation. “It appears I cannot escape that fate then.�

Harry grinned again. “No, sir. You turned down the Ministry several times to stay at the castle. You’re the best headmaster the school has ever had.�

“You’re too kind, Harry,� Albus murmured, thinking about his future as headmaster. After a moment’s silence he continued. “It appears you have been here before,� he offered, curious about the young man’s relationship with the innkeeper.

“I have,� Harry replied softly, looking away. His face darkened, and his emerald eyes became lost in thought. He sighed before continuing, his voice subdued and touched with a hint of sadness. “Waterbut helped me understand a few things, find my way back.�

Albus nodded, wondering what had happened to Harry Potter that had found him lost at such a young age. “It appears he is skilled at guiding people,� he suggested, hoping to draw the young man out of his reverie.

“Yes, he is. He may be gruff on the outside, but inside he is kind and wise.� Harry did not offer any other explanation of his own experience at the Green Dragon, and Albus decided he would not push the young man to reveal secrets he wished to keep as his own. He struggled to bring the conversation back to life, knowing there was a reason this suddenly sad young man from his future had appeared at the inn.

“He referred to you as the Boy-Who-Lived. It’s a rather grandiose title for one so young,� he said quietly. “Might I ask the reasons for such a name?�

Harry shook himself and brought his pensive gaze back to Albus. “Of course, sir. I’m the Boy-Who-Lived because I’m the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse.�

Albus gasped in spite of himself, astonished to hear such an answer, and set down his tea rather abruptly. “That’s not possible! How could that happen?�

“It’s a long story, sir,� said Harry, sounding weary. “And I can’t really tell you all of it. However, I did survive the curse. I was only a year old, so I don’t remember much, but it’s how I got this scar.� He pulled back his hair to reveal the lightning-shaped scar Albus had noticed earlier.

“But that curse doesn’t leave a scar,� objected Albus, still amazed. “It kills, instantly and absolutely. No one has ever survived a Killing Curse, there isn’t even a Shield Charm that can stop it. Who would do such a thing to a one-year-old child?� Even as he asked the final question, he dreaded the answer.

“Voldemort,� replied Harry softly.

“Tom Riddle?� repeated Albus, his worst fears confirmed. Waterbut had been right: Tom did indeed grow into a Dark wizard, one who would try to murder innocent children.

“Yes, Tom Riddle - although he dropped his real name while he was still at Hogwarts and began calling himself Voldemort instead.� Albus saw the young man shudder, as if recalling a memory he would rather not remember.

“But why?� Albus asked, overwhelmed with the urgent need to know more, to understand how such a horrible future could come to pass for both of these young men.. “Why would he want to kill an innocent child?�

Harry sighed, and seemed to settle in for a difficult answer. “Because he saw me as a threat. It was prophesized that one day I would vanquish him, so he came to kill me, hoping to stop that. Instead, he set the prophecy in motion, forcing it to play out exactly the way it was foretold.�

Albus frowned; he had never held much belief in prophecy, and was surprised to learn that Tom Riddle had grown in the sort of man who would fear the inexact art of Divination. At the very least, a man as clever as the student Tom Riddle had been would surely have realized what Harry had just said: by believing in the prophecy, and acting on it, he was responsible for his fate, not the prophecy. Had Tom simply ignored the words of the seer, events would have turned out differently, given the unpredictable path of a future governed by free will and not predestination.

“Why did Tom Riddle have to be vanquished?� Albus asked, still needing to understand the grim future these young men faced. “How is it that the young man I know becomes so evil?�

Harry was silent for a moment, studying Albus as he seemed to collect his thoughts. When he finally spoke, it was with a maturity that belied his years.

“Tom Riddle was cruel even when you first met him, was he not?� he began quietly. Albus nodded, somehow not surprised that the boy knew of his first meeting with Tom Riddle seven years past. Harry took a sip of butterbeer and continued.

“He never knew love, his entire life. I think that without love a person can become obsessed with fear and hatred instead. He hated his mother for dying, and he hated his father when he found out he was a Muggle.� Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Harry nodded. “His father was a Muggle from a small village hear where his mother lived. She bewitched him into falling in love with her, and he left her when he found out she was a witch.�

Harry ran his hand through his black hair and sighed. “I think growing up without love filled Tom Riddle with a great deal of fear and hatred. He turned his loathing of his Muggle father into a hatred of all Muggles, even Muggleborn wizards. He believed fanatically in the purity of blood, because he hated his own mixed heritage.�

Albus nodded, because it made such sad sense; Tom would indeed have been devastated to find out his father was not the powerful wizard he had grown up imagining him to be. Albus felt a sinking feeling in his heart, however, upon learning that the prejudices which he had fought so hard against in the battle with Grindelwald would return to haunt the magical community once more.

“Tom Riddle hated – and feared – death as well.� Harry frowned, but then looked at Albus with a wry smile. “I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.�

Albus returned the smile, pleased at the young man’s insight. “Very true, Harry. Some men fail to realize that, and fear what they do not know.�

Harry grinned outright. “It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more,� he recited with a quiet laugh.

“You are absolutely correct,� Albus laughed with him. “That is very wise, for someone so young.�

“I had an excellent teacher,� Harry murmured, and his eyes were bright as he looked at Albus. Albus realized the young man was referring to him, and took a sip of tea to cover his own embarrassment. He also filed the words away for future reference.

“Please continue, Harry,� he encouraged the boy after a long pause.

“Yes, sir,� replied the boy, sitting up straighter. The haunted look returned to his eyes. “Voldemort’s fear and hatred motivated his desire for power. He coveted power, both over others, and over life and death itself. He gathered followers who shared his beliefs, and began taking over the Wizarding world. And all the while, he worked to conquer death as well, to make himself immortal.�

“Immortal?� repeated Albus, startled at the turn the story had taken.

“He wanted to ensure that should he be killed, he could return to continue his work,� answered Harry. “He learned all sorts of Dark Magic, and became a very twisted, evil person, barely recognizable, and hardly human. The Wizarding world grew so frightened they didn’t even use his name.�

“Fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself,� said Albus, wondering at the dire implications of Harry’s words: even Grindelwald hadn’t inspired such terror.

“So you’ve said,� Harry replied dryly. “The Wizarding world was terrified, of him and his name. Then Voldemort heard of the prophecy, and came after me. He killed my parents, and tried to kill me, but the Killing Curse rebounded and struck him, destroying his body. He had taken steps, however, and thirteen years later he returned to power.�

Albus shook his head, amazed at all that Harry was sharing with him. He had some idea of what Tom Riddle may have done in his quest to achieve immortality, but did not understand how Harry had survived. “I still cannot believe that you were not killed by the that curse. And I’ve certainly never heard of it rebounding back upon the one who cast it.�

Harry shrugged. “There were some special circumstances involved.�

“Naturally,� replied Albus, hoping the boy would tell him more. Harry only smiled, as if he heard the unasked question.

“Sorry, sir. I can’t tell you much more than that.�

“Of course,� Albus murmured, and they were silent once more. Finally Albus offered the one other thought that continued to trouble him. “I am still disappointed to learn that Tom Riddle turned his talents to such Dark uses.� He had known from the day he met him that Tom Riddle was different, but had always hoped the boy would nurture his gifts at Hogwarts and turn away from his troubled past. It appeared his hope would not be realized.

“It is our own choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities,� said Harry softly, once again sounding as if he were reciting something. “Tom Riddle chose his path. He was not born evil. He chose to do what he did, to himself and to others, and he paid the price in the end.�

“You vanquished him,� said Albus quietly.

Harry simply nodded, and Albus saw in that single movement the weight of the world settling down on the boy’s shoulders, the consequences of a grim journey that had forced an otherwise innocent young man to commit acts of which he was not proud, and which obviously still haunted him. He could sympathize with Harry, having just completed his own dark struggle with Grindelwald; victory was often far more bittersweet than expected.

“You helped me a great deal, sir,� said Harry after a moment, and Albus saw gratitude and even love in the boy’s eyes. “You taught me so much. I couldn’t have done it without you, even after you were. . . well, even at the end. Fawkes, too – I couldn’t have done it with out him either.�

Albus felt his eyes widen in surprise to hear the name of the phoenix who had been his companion for the past five years. He was pleased, however, to know that the mysterious bird had played a pivotal role in what was obviously going to be a grim battle. He sat for a long moment in silence, thinking over all that Harry had shared with him about Tom Riddle and the dismal future that faced them all. He was interrupted by the rhythmic stomping of the innkeeper returning to their table.

“Time to go, Potter,� he said gruffly, and Harry nodded. He finished his butterbeer and stood. Albus joined him, and held out his hand. Harry reached out and shook it firmly, before once more grasping Albus in a fierce embrace.

“Thank you, Professor,� he said softly, stepping back with bright eyes. He offered a slightly embarrassed grin as he wiped at the moisture on his cheeks. “I hope you find your way back soon. Hogwarts will need you – we all will.�

Albus nodded, his throat tight. “Thank you, Harry,� he finally managed to say. “You’ve given me much to think about it, for better or worse.�

Harry nodded as if he understood the thoughts swirling through Albus’s mind at the moment. “You once told me that the consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business.�

Albus cocked an eyebrow. “That certainly sounds like something I’d say, doesn’t it?� He winked at the young man, who threw back his head and laughed.

“You were right, too,� said Harry, his face serious once more. “Even now, the future changes with each decision you make. You can’t avoid it though, because it will always catch up with you. I’ve found it is better to meet it head on.�

“Good advice, Potter,� grumbled the innkeeper, interrupting once more. “Now off with you.� He waved his hand, and Harry began to disappear.

“Good-bye, Headmaster,� said Harry, his voice distant. Albus watched as the young man’s soft smile and brilliant green eyes slowly faded away. He would miss the intelligent young man who faced such a bleak destiny; but he knew he would meet him again someday. It was a future he could look forward to, even as he dreaded the dark days to come.

“Good advice, indeed,� Albus said softly to himself.


* * *


A/N: All the quotations that Harry repeats to Dumbledore were of course written by J.K. Rowling and simply borrowed here for the brilliance of their words. Many thanks to myownmuggle for her beta work and encouragement when I got stuck!