My Own Doing
She kept her eyes closed as she focused on the magic she was wielding. For the most part, it was much calmer now, but from time to time, especially when she was struggling with her warring emotions, it would become erratic again.
Fortunately for Ariana, it rarely became so angry that she could not rein in it again, but those moments did still come when it would flair uncontrollably. She wished it didn’t. It served to remind her that although she was far from the sickly, weak girl she’d been only a couple of years prior, she was still not fully healed.
“You did it!”
She opened her eyes to see that she had managed to transfigure the wooden block that had been in front of her into a metal one. It was not the easiest of transformations to achieve, but Ariana had something of a proclivity towards the art.
Not the same way that Albus did, but she wasn’t untalented. Still, she favoured the study of charms. Ever since Harry had shown her his thestral, she had been enthralled by it and was pleased that she seemed to be very capable using them.
Even so, her mother did not allow her to neglect the rest of her studies and today was a transfiguration day.
“Now, turn it back and then we will have some lunch.”
Ariana nodded before doing so, shuddering as a wave of familiar magic washed over her.
She was still quite sensitive to ambient magic. Her own was no longer so resistant to it, and she was able to calm it when it was disturbed, but with the magic that seemed to hang over the very village, it was welcomed by hers.
Ariana had gotten used to its comforting presence, but it was different this time, closer, stronger, and she stood to slowly approach the window.
“Harry,” she whispered.
“Harry?” her mother asked as she joined her. “Ariana, there’s no one there.”
“No, not here, but I can feel him. He’s in the village.”
She continued scanning the street below, but from her room, she could not see much of Godric’s Hollow, and although she was able to leave her room comfortably enough to eat her meals, she had yet to leave the family home.
Whenever she considered doing so, she would be gripped by a terrible fear and vulnerability and hadn’t even made it into the back garden.
“You’re certain?”
Ariana nodded unblinkingly.
“I think so.”
Her mother rubbed her shoulder.
Two years.
It had been more than two years now that Harry had left with the promise that he would return when he could, and if her magic was right, that day had finally arrived.
Ariana was nervous to see him again, but equally excited.
She didn’t want him to be disappointed that so little had seemingly changed in such a long time, but things were at least different since he was last here.
Ariana no longer cowered in her room in the darkness, and she no longer feared her own magic. Her lessons were progressing well, and yet, life was still often a struggle for her.
She was trying but it seemed that she had hit a wall of sorts.
Still, if he was back, she was pleased. She had missed him, as had the rest of her family. Abe would be disappointed that he had returned to Hogwarts only the week prior and was not here.
She could truly feel him, his magic once more blanketing the village in its protective embrace.
Harry Peverell had come home, and just the thought brought a warm smile to her lips.
(Break)
Being the Deputy Headmistress of a school that boarded hundreds of students for nine months out of the year, Minerva had grown accustomed to being woken from her slumber at all hours.
Throughout the several decades of working here, that had become the norm, but when the students had left the castle for the summer, her sleep was blissfully undisturbed.
Usually, being woken in the early hours would serve to irk her, but it was the nature of the sound that pulled her from her dreams that made her heart sink into her stomach.
Since she’d met Albus when she’d been a student, his familiar had been a constant presence, and would often serenade the duo whilst they worked. The song it sang now, however, was like no other she’d heard, but the message was clear.
Fawkes was in mourning.
Minerva swallowed deeply, doing her utmost to steady her legs as she climbed out of bed and wrapped herself in her gown before leaving her room to reluctantly make her way towards Albus’s own.
By the time she turned the corner into the corridor a few floors below her own, Severus, Filius, and Horace were already there, and she could hear the shuffling footsteps of the rest of her colleagues.
Minerva hoped that she wouldn’t find what she already knew awaited her, but as the gargoyle sprang aside at her approach, she knew her heartache wasn’t to be spared.
Much to her relief, before she set foot on the spiral staircase, Poppy arrived and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, merely nodding grimly before the two of them led the others into the office above.
It was at it had always been except for the eerily silent portraits, with the addition of another among them with the unmoving image of who was now the former headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Minerva’s breath hitched in her chest at the sight of the man, his eyes as brilliant and sharp as ever, and the smile he wore as warm as the day she’d first met him.
“Come,” Poppy urged gently, gesturing towards the open door atop another staircase just beyond the desk.
Bracing herself once more, Minerva ascended it, pausing briefly in the doorway.
Albus might just be sleeping if she did not know he was already dead, and the only comfort she could find in this moment was that he had seemingly gone peacefully.
His expression was one of peace, at least, and the gentlest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips.
“He did not suffer, Minerva,” Poppy assured, running her wand up and down the length of his body. “He passed in his sleep because of the curse.”
Minerva nodded but was unable to prevent the tears from rolling down her cheeks.
At the very least, Albus had made it as long as he’d hoped, and had died after the students had left for the summer break, but it wasn’t only those of the castle that would feel this loss.
No, just about every witch and wizard in the past many decades had either been under the leadership of Albus Dumbledore, or, like her, been taught by him in the same classroom she now occupied.
Yes, the entire country would mourn, and then, it would undoubtedly be plunged into another phase of the war that would become more frantic, more desperate, and undoubtedly more violent.
“I will send for Aberforth,” she whispered as Poppy placed a sheet over Albus’s body. “My instructions were to send for him.”
She left the room and found she had no words for her colleagues as she passed them by, swallowing another lump that formed in her throat as she moved to carry out Albus’s final instructions.
(Break)
It was a feeling of bittersweetness that filled him as he arrived in what had once been the Peverell home. He was glad to be back, and looking forward to seeing the Dumbledore’s, unburdening himself for a short while from the war that plagued him, and seeing what else this place would bring.
Still, despite feeling unburdened by the war, he was not so by the death of one of the men he looked up to.
With a shake of his head, Harry returned the portraits of the Peverells to their stretch of wall over the fireplace in the foyer before turning sharply as he felt an overwhelming wave of coldness roll over him.
“I held up my end of the deal, Peverell,” Death spoke, holding out his hand expectantly.
Harry nodded as he drew the elder wand, shuddering once more at the power of it before he handed it over.
“And I have honoured mine,” he replied. “The wand is yours, and the stone will be too when Dumbledore crosses over.”
The cloaked figure offered him a bow.
“You are to retrieve the others that are here. The cloak, I will allow to remain with your family, and you may keep yours as my loyal servant. Do not forget my kindness, Peverell, and do not let your loyalty waver. You are mine as I am yours.”
With that, he vanished, leaving Harry alone with the portraits.
He had struck that very deal with Death to allow Dumbledore to join him here, so that he might pass on having come to terms with what had transpired in his youth.
Even so, it was still a hefty price to pay, but at the very least, the headmaster had not suffered in his final moments, and it wasn’t as though Harry would be without the wand and stone.
He knew where the latter was for certain, which was with the Gaunt family, and the former was likely with Gregorovitch, if the Ollivander of this place was correct in his thoughts.
Regardless, seeking them out was not a priority for Harry right now, not when he needed to once more get a lay of the land he found himself in. The thin layer of dust on the surfaces in the home told him that he’d been away for a while, and before he summoned Albus from the ring, he wanted to know exactly what it was he was summoning the man to.
His first port of call would be to visit the Dumbledores, but before that, a quick trip to Diagon Alley to establish how much time had gone by since he’d left, and any clue of what he might be in store for now that he was back.
“Are you well, Harry?” Ignotus asked.
He deflated as he shook his head.
“No, not really,” he admitted, though Harry could not hope to know just how much worse things would soon become, and how different they would be for him here.
(Break)
He watched as Nicholas scrutinised their work, holding up the brew to the light within the basement of the Flamel home before nodding, a deep frown marring his features.
The alchemist hummed as he poured a little mixture onto his hand, and the wart that was there vanished almost immediately.
“I’m not sure that this is exactly what you had in mind when investigation the uses of dragon’s blood, Albie, but it makes for a fine wart remover,” he chuckled.
The laughter was infectious enough that Albus joined in.
“So, an exceptional oven cleaner, and wart remover,” he declared.
“Indeed,” Nicholas sighed whimsically. “This is the joy of alchemy. You may have an idea or thought on how an investigation will unfold, and then all of your expectations are blown out of the water. Nonetheless, do not underestimate the importance of this work, Albie. Even warts must be removed and ovens cleaned.”
Albus nodded amusedly as he took a few more notes on their findings.
For the better part of two years, the two of them had worked diligently on identifying the uses of dragon’s blood, and truthfully, they’d realised early on that the liquid was incredibly volatile when it came to mixing it with other ingredients.
Still, they were both certainly enjoying themselves, and it wasn’t as though their efforts were for nothing.
No, Albus had learned much more than he’d expected to about alchemy in the short time he’d spent under Nicholas’s tutelage, and the man was simply brilliant.
He was rather relaxed, and liked to make jokes, but in those moments his focus was solely on the task at hand, Albus could see why it was he’d been able to create the philosopher’s stone when so many before him had failed.
“I think we will call it a day,” the man declared. “We can revisit this again after weekend. I think we could both use a little time to recuperate but do have a think of anything else we can try. We are onto something here, Albie. I can feel it.”
Albus nodded before packing away his things, pleased to have been given a long weekend to look forward to.
He and Gellert would undoubtedly find something to occupy their time, if he was around, of course.
He’d been travelling considerably these past eighteen months, and though he’d not said as much, Albus suspected he had taken what happened to him when he’d tried to access Harry’s home quite personally.
Yes, Albus did not doubt that he was seeking out the Hallows for himself in a bid to see his vision for the world come to fruition.
“I’ll see you on Monday, Nicholas,” he bade the man as he activated his portkey, arriving back within his home in Godric’s Hollow, frowning as a wave of familiar magic made itself known.
His eyes widened in realisation, and he hurried down the stairs into the kitchen to find Ariana and his mother drinking tea at the table.
“He’s not here yet,” his sister informed him, “but he will be.”
She could feel it too, and Albus positively beamed at the thought that, after more than two years, Harry Peverell was back.
Even so, he could not ignore the sense of nervousness he felt that if Gellert was indeed here, the situation could become somewhat awkward if the topic of conversation shifted to that of the legendary artefacts belonging to Harry’s family.
(Break)
For Harry, he’d been away for only half a year, but two here had passed by since his departure. Although Diagon Alley remained as he remembered it, he did not doubt that other things would’ve changed.
Already, he’d been keen to see Ariana, to see how she’d progressed in his absence, but with so long having gone by for the girl compared to his own time away, he was worried that she had regressed in her healing.
She’d been in a good place when he’d left, much stronger of mind and positive despite being rather downtrodden.
Still, he was hopeful that she was well and thriving.
“September twelfth,” he sighed as he paid for the copy of The Daily Prophet he’d accepted from the vendor before making his way to the apparation point.
Of course, he didn’t have a licence yet and wouldn’t even be sitting his NEWTs. He’d not told Ron and Hermione that he wouldn’t be returning to Hogwarts for their final year.
He’d wanted to, but found it wasn’t so easy to broach the subject when both would, as they had done so often, opt to join him in what he was doing. It wasn’t that he didn’t or wouldn’t appreciate their invaluable help, but Harry needed to be able to be away from them for days, weeks, or even months at a time if he was to be here for any lengthy stay.
If he was going to venture to Bulgaria, that might well be so.
He shook his head as he arrived in the kitchen of his home, reminding himself that he must speak with his friends before September.
Before that conversation, however, would be Dumbledore’s funeral he would be attending in the coming days. How long that would take to arrange, Harry did not know, but that meant he could not linger here for as long as he might like.
Still, for now, here he was, and whilst he was here, he had a promise to fulfil to the man he’d brought along and to Ariana, who he left the home to visit having made a few stops to buy some gifts for the family.
Aberforth would be at Hogwarts, and Harry wasn’t certain what Albus was doing with his time. He did not doubt that Ariana would still be at home with Kendra at the very least, an assumption that was confirmed as he made his way up the path towards the front door of the home.
Ariana offered him a brilliant smile from where she stood behind her mother and Albus, who pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Where have you been, Harry?” he asked.
It was strange to be confronted by the man.
His own Dumbledore had been dead for less than a day, and it was difficult not to dwell on it so much as he met the gaze of the younger with the eyes being the same.
“Here and there,” Harry answered, taken aback as he entered the home and Ariana threw her arms around his neck, all but squeezing the life out of him. “Well, you’ve grown.”
He observed her as she broke away, and although she still had the prominent bags under her eyes, and her skin was a little paler than he’d like, she was no longer so thin, and her eyes no longer so dull.
“I missed you.”
Her words were sincere and elicited the first smile that had graced his lips for the first time in weeks.
“I missed you too.”
She took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen where she placed him into one of the chairs at the table.
Only a moment later, Harry was plied with food, and he offered Kendra an appreciative smile.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You seem rather down.”
He deflated as he nodded.
“I lost someone close to e recently,’ he explained. “I’m just feeling a little lost without him.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that, Harry. If there is anything we can do…”
“Thank you. I’ll be attending his funeral, but I wanted to come back here whilst I had the chance.”
“You’re going away again?” Ariana asked sadly.
“Not for long this time,” Harry promised. “Just for the funeral, then I’ll be back. So, how are the lessons coming?”
“I’m already doing fifth year work in most of my subjects,” Ariana declared proudly.
“Of course, you are,” Harry huffed good-naturedly. “You have two brilliant brothers and mother to teach you. I would’ve been disappointed if you weren’t doing as well as you are. You look well, Ariana.”
“It’s not been easy,” the girl admitted, and Harry realised just how much she had changed, not just in her attitude, but how much she had grown.
She was no longer the shy twelve-year-old he’d left behind, but a more mature and still maturing fourteen-year-old, who’d not had the easiest time of it.
Yes, he was very proud of her, more than he could put into words, but there was still much the two of them had to work through before he would be satisfied that she was indeed coping as well as he could ever hope.
“Well, you have certainly garnered some attention since you’ve been gone,” Kendra spoke as she began puttering around the kitchen.
“I have?” Harry asked cautiously.
“You have. Reverend Seabrook says that Lord Potter seems to be quite interested in you, and Bathilda mentioned that Cantankerus Nott has been looking into your family.”
That name was familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t remember why. Regardless, if he was a Nott, he did not want the man taking so much of an interest in him.
“Oh, and Orion Black has been to the village more than once.”
“Great,” Harry muttered, not forgetting the brief encounter he’d had with the man in Diagon Alley.
“That reminds me, there is someone I would like you to meet,” Albus broke in tentatively. “He is a friend of mine I met shortly after you left. I think the two of you will get on.”
Harry did not miss the look of disapproval from Ariana, and he quirked an eyebrow at her. She shook her head in response as Kendra joined them, smiling brightly at Harry once more.
“It really is so good to have you back,” she said sincerely. “We’ve all missed you.”
She meant it.
Kendra Dumbledore had never struck Harry as someone who wouldn’t speak her mind, despite how delicate she had been when he’d first met her. No, much like Ariana, when she was in form, she was not afraid to speak her mind, which was something he’d come to appreciate with so many disingenuous others he’d made the acquaintance of over the years.
“So, Albus, what have you been doing since you left Hogwarts?” he asked interestedly as he tucked into his dinner.
(Break)
He had lost many people over the years; colleagues in the line of duty, mentors who had retired and passed on some years later, and countless friends during the last war. For Alastor Moody, death wasn’t unfamiliar, but Albus’s loss hit him much harder than he’d anticipated.
Of course, the two of them had been friends for many years, had fought and bled together on the battlefield, and the man had been his transfiguration professor during his years as a student of Hogwarts, but Albus Dumbledore was so much more than all of those to so many.
“Aye, lass, it won’t be the same without him,” he comforted, “and things will change. When the Dark Lord discovers it…”
He broke off and shook his head.
The war had been rather stagnant for the most part thus far, allowing Alastor to prepare the department for what was to come. Not that it would ever truly be, and even now, with the support the man had inevitably gathered, they would be hard-pressed to fend Voldemort off.
“It doesn’t bear thinking about,” Minerva murmured, nursing the cup of tea she had in her hands. “What will we do, Alastor?”
“Wha we always have, lass. For now, I will do what I can for the Order, but soon enough, it will be the lad they all look to. They’ll expect him to be the one to get rid of him again.”
Minerva nodded unhappily.
“He’s still just a boy.”
“Aye, in years, but he’s experienced more than most seasoned aurors. I wouldn’t count Potter out. He has a way of getting himself through things, and this won’t be any different. Anyway, we’d best call a meeting and break the news to the others before it gets out elsewhere.”
Minerva nodded and placed her cup on the desk, which she was reluctant to occupy.
Hogwarts, however, could not be without a headmaster or headmistress, and Albus had made it clear that it was to be her that replaced him when the time came.
That time, much to his consternation, was now, and though she wished it wasn’t so, that Albus was still alive, her mourning must wait whilst she set the affairs of the castle in order.
(Break)
“Abe will be furious that he’s not here,” Albus chuckled.
“I will write to him,” Harry promised, both pleased and relieved that the entire family seemed to be thriving.
According to Kendra, Aberforth was indeed proving himself to be quite the exceptional talent when it came to the study of Ancient Runes, and even more than that, without Albus being at Hogwarts, it seemed he was truly coming into his own.
“So, you’ve managed a wart remover and oven cleaner so far?”
Albus chuckled as he nodded.
“Working with Nicholas has been a revelation. He’s maybe the most brilliant man I have ever met, and even when things go wrong we just laugh about it. I will never be close to as gifted as him when it comes to alchemy, but I think that is what I like about it.”
“It’s good to be humbled.”
Albus nodded his agreement, pausing as they reached the park they’d often met in, his eyes widening almost in awe.
Harry frowned as he caught sight of the other young man who was equally beaming as he approached, and what an odd man he was.
His skin was almost as pale as snow, his eyes such a brilliant blue that one might assume they were milky with blindness, and his hair was scarcely a shade darker.
He watched as the two of them embraced, both lingering a little longer than would be considered decent by most.
“Harry, this is Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert, this is Harry Peverell,” Albus introduced the duo.
Harry suspected that his own look of shock mirrored that of Grindelwald’s as the two of them eyed one another, both for completely different reasons. Of course, Harry had heard of the infamous Dark Lord, and Dumbledore’s eventual victory over him during the 1940s.
What he hadn’t known was that the two of them had once been friends, or had they been where he was from?
Had Harry’s intervention here unravelled an entirely new thread that had not been explored during Dumbledore’s life, or had it been as it was before him now; the two of them on the very best of terms?
He didn’t know, but as he offered his hand to the equally bewildered man, he was determined to discover the truth of the matter by speaking to the Dumbledore of his own time when he summoned him.
“My apologies, I was taken aback by your appearance. It is quite unique.”
Grindelwald chuckled and waved him off dismissively.
“It is quite alright,” he said in a thick, foreign accent. “The healers assure me it is nothing either problematic or catching. It is just the way I was born. Of course, I have heard of your family, Harry. Yes, they are quite famous in their own right.”
There was something of a hunger in the man’s eyes, and it did not take Harry long to deduce what it was he was pondering.
The Hallows.
Grindelwald had heard of the Hallows, and undoubtedly wished to possess them, a most troubling thought, especially when he pondered the wand he had just surrendered to Death.
The elder wand had been in Dumbledore’s possession for several decades according to the man, and Harry would not hedge his bets that somehow, he had liberated it from Grindelwald the day he’d defeated him.
Truthfully, this was a lot to take in, and he knew he would not consider his next moves carefully around the duo until he was made privy to the nature of their relationship.
What he did know, however, was that he would not allow this Grindelwald to come into possession of the elder wand. No, at his earliest convenience, he would be venturing to Bulgaria to retrieve it himself, if it was indeed in the possession of Gregorovitch.
“So, Harry, Albus tells me that despite not going to Hogwarts, you are quite the wizard. Now, I know you didn’t go to Durmstrang either, so where were you taught?”
“Privately, and self-taught,” Harry answered. “I was raised by my aunt and uncle who died some years ago, so, it’s just been me, mostly.”
“How very fascinating,” Grindelwald mused aloud. “How very fascinating indeed.”
“What’s Durmstrang like?” Harry asked curiously.
Of course, he’d met Viktor Krum and several other students from the school, but none of them had been so forthcoming.
“Dreary but quite liberal when it comes to what we were allowed to study, within reason. There are certain practices that even a school with Durmstrang’s reputation will not permit the study of,” Grindelwald replied with a disapproving frown.
“There are some things that should be left alone,” Harry countered. “I know a man who set himself on a terrible path and lost his mind to the Dark Arts, and he was an expert in Occlumency.”
Grindelwald nodded appreciatively.
“Well, the Dark Arts are not something I favour as such. I find them to be most uncouth, crude, and unimaginative when it comes to magic. No, I prefer creative freedom but avoid things that I find to be repugnant. Isn’t that right, Albus?”
Albus nodded eagerly.
“I prefer transfiguration. It can be used for just about anything you could need, but I do not neglect the rest of my studies. I am as diligent now as I ever have been, maybe even more so. Education is never ending, and I never intend to stop learning.
Although he was seemingly listening, Grindelwald’s eyes did not leave Harry. It was as though he was attempting to read him like a book, but Harry was not naïve enough to even let him get a glimpse.
No, there was something most unsettling about Grindelwald that Albus was evidently blind to, and it had little to do with what Harry knew was to come.
Was this it?
Was this why Death had brought him here of all places?
He’d helped Ariana but the cloaked figure had told him from the very beginning that his purpose went far beyond the needs of the girl, and though there was no humour to be found in the situation, Harry chuckled internally.
It seemed that Voldemort would not be the only Dark Lord he was to be confronted with, after all.
(Break)
Losing Dumbledore was quite the blow to the war effort, and for Severus, his one and only advocate was lost to him. Albus was the only one who knew the truth of his position, which had undoubtedly become considerably more precarious.
Even so, his work must continue, and as he entered the home the Dark Lord’s muggle ancestors, he readied himself for what was to come as best he could.
With the Dark Lord, there was no telling how he would react to the news, but as Dumbledore’s wishes, it was Severus who was to break it to him to ensure his cover remained in place.
“I did not send for you, Severus.”
“You did not, my lord. I bring you news of the utmost importance. Just last night, Dumbledore died.”
The declaration was met with silence, and Severus kept his head bowed whilst the man digested what he’d learned.
“He’s dead?”
Severus nodded.
“How?”
“I am not certain, my lord, but I did manage to overhear a conversation between Minerva and Poppy Pomfrey, the school healer. She said that she’s been treating him for an ailment for some time, that he has been growing weaker these past several months, and that because of his age, he’d been unable to be cured. Of course, I will see what else I can discover, but I saw him for myself, my lord. He is dead and the announcement will be made soon.”
The Dark Lord said nothing as he stood suddenly and began pacing back and forth, seemingly in shock but also disappointed.
“I had always hoped it would be me to put an end to the old fool,” he mused aloud.
After another moment of pacing, he began chuckling to himself before laughing uproariously. It was a most unpleasant sound, and Severus could feel the glee radiating from him.
“Yes, without Dumbledore to hamper my efforts, all just became much easier. Your arm, Severus. I must summon the others and inform them of this opportunity, and you, old friend, will have your part to play.”
He nodded as he rolled up his left sleeve to expose his tarnished skin, wincing as his forearm was gripped tightly, and a bony digit was pressed into the Dark Mark.
“Yes, this changes things, Severus. Now, return to Hogwarts. Your position is to be maintained for when the time is right.”
Offering the Dark Lord a bow, Severus felt himself filled with dread at what was to come. Now that he was aware of Dumbledore’s passing, he would not hesitate to begin taking advantage of the opportunity.
Worse still, Severus could not even begin to fathom what would come next, but what he did know was that the forecast was not good for Great Britain, not good at all.
(Break)
What he’d summoned from within the stone was the strangest of apparitions. It was undoubtedly the Albus Dumbledore that he knew, well, he thought he’d known, but it was as though he was made of a grey smoke of sorts, neither solid but not a ghost either.
What was unmistakeable was expression of shame he wore, and the pain in the man’s eyes as he nodded.
“I knew Gellert well,” Dumbledore admitted. “When we met, both my mother and father were dead, Ariana wasn’t doing so well, and Abe already resented me. That only increased when I spoke of my intention to travel with Gellert so that we might change the world. I could not have imagined what would come next. Abe didn’t take the news well, and a fight broke out between him and Gellert, resulting in Ariana’s death. Well, Gellert left after that, and I only saw him once more to plead with him to stop what he was doing before we fought.”
“Well, shit,” Harry sighed.
“It was my time with Gellert that made me realise that I was not to be trusted with power, and certainly not with the Hallows, as the means of my death have shown.”
“You wanted to speak with Ariana.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore choked. “More than anything else.”
Harry dragged a hand through his hair.
He was angry with Dumbledore, but more than that, he was saddened. What had happened had shaped his future in a spotlight he did not wish to be under, and burdened with a reputation of a man who could solve all the problems within the world.
“So, what do I do?”
Dumbledore shook his head and smiled sadly.
“I do not know, Harry. I had hoped that with my mother being alive and Ariana getting the help she need, that my association with Gellert would not be as it was.”
“Were you in love with him?”
Dumbledore was taken aback by the question, but he nodded shamefully.
“Yes. Even now, I like to believe that he was in love with me too, but I could never get him to steer away from his ambitions. I could temper the less pleasant traits of his, but when I was no longer around..”
He broke off and wiped away an errant tear.
“With things not being how they were here, I’m afraid there will be little to deter to me from following him wherever he goes, Harry. It was only what happened to Ariana that changed my path.”
“So, I might have you and him as enemies.”
Dumbledore frowned.
“Why…?”
“Because if you’re not going to be here to stop him, then someone else will, won’t they?”
Dumbledore’s expression fell.
“I had not considered that, but Harry, Gellert must not get the elder wand, nor any of the other Hallows. If I were to look for it I would…”
“Gregorovitch,” Harry interjected. “He has it, doesn’t he?”
Dumbledore nodded gravely.
“Yes, and he will not give it up so easily.”
“Of course he bloody won’t,” Harry grumbled. “I bet you’re having a good laugh about this aren’t you?”
“I can assure you, Harry, I see no humour in the situation.”
“Not you,” Harry grumbled. “I know you’re bloody well here!”
The coldness that washed over the entire house was not as welcoming as he’d become accustomed to, as the cloaked figure appeared, bearing over him.
“An opportunity, Peverell. I only promised you an opportunity. What happens here is because you have willed it.”
“I didn’t will this!”
“You did not. It seems that Fate has once again decided to intervene in your affairs. The prophecy is not specific on the Dark Lord you must face. I expect she has seen fit to twist it to apply here to reflect the changes you have made.”
“Well, that’s just bloody great,” Harry huffed. “So, not only do I have to kill Riddle, but I’ve also got to fight both Grindelwald and Dumbledore, if he can’t be convinced to not follow him.”
“It seems so.”
Harry could only shake his head as he chuckled humourlessly.
“Of course that’s fucking right!”
He rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“I can only apologise, Harry, I…”
Harry waved Dumbledore off as he pondered his next move.
“It’s not your fault,” he assured the apparition of the man. “You heard him, it is my own doing. Anyway, it can wait for the few days you have here. Would you like to see your mother, sister, and stupid younger self?”
Albus nodded in response, and Harry gestured for him to follow, already making plans to visit Bulgaria as quickly as he could.
Fighting Riddle was one thing, but Grindelwald and Dumbledore too was the very last thing he’d ever expected to face in his wildest dreams.