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!