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!