It was a cold night that greeted Harry upon arriving at the Hogsmeade station, a soft splintering whoosh the only thing that announced his presence to the few spectators that were waiting for the train. Cold and wet the night was; the dark skies having been stolen by a bunch of grumbling clouds that cried like newborn babies, drenching his robed figure in barely a moment past his arrival.
His school trunk was reduced into a small cube, resting in his inner pocket right now. He'd thanked the god almighty for the first time in his life when he found the Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak in Jacob's trunk.
With a flick of his wrist, Harry formed a small shield overhead to protect him from the rainstorm, before quickly heading for the cover of a bonnet-roofed house. The Hogsmeade station rested inside the boundaries of its namesake-village, with a lively neighborhood surrounding it, providing just a little bit of light; enough for the station to not go pitch black. A few friendly chaps waved at him and he waved back, his identity safe due to the remaining darkness of the night and blurry vision from the rain.
He also spied the presence of one giant of a man standing at the opposite side of the platform, his eleven foot tall figure leaving no doubt in his mind as to the identity of its owner.
Though he desperately wished to, Harry didn't call out to Hagrid. He doubted anything save for a Sonorus-amplified voice could pierce through the clattering of rainfall; and the last thing he wished to do was announce the presence of Harry Potter to the whole neighborhood.
The Hogwarts train was running late so he pressed up his back against the wall, and readied himself for a good bit of wait. While the idea of flying in the rain to meet the train halfway and surprise his family with a dorky greeting seemed an exciting prospect, it was impractical enough that he quickly dropped it.
'The windows and doors will be closed as well.' And for some reason, the image of him chasing after the train to keep pace while rapping his knuckles on the window glass, desperate to be let in from the assaulting rain, was too embarrassing to give the idea further thought.
'Well…I guess I'm here for some time.' He sighed, casting his gaze across the railway.
His attention was soon taken by a sudden bout of déjà vu as a realization hit his entire mind like a bucket of ice falling upon his person, jerking him up-straight again.
'This is where I decided to end it all.' He thought somberly, heart beating wildly as his mind revisited the buried memories.
It wasn't exactly here, but just half a mile or so away from the station. The rocky path that led down to Hogsmeade village.
'It was raining then as well, wasn't it?' He chuckled to himself humorlessly. 'I slipped on a fucking rock and broke my glasses under my skinny arse.'
Thinking back, he couldn't quite decide what exactly sold him on the idea of using a broken Time-turner. Was it the helplessness of things or something just as deeper? Or was it something as simple as breaking his glasses for the last freakin time and having had enough?
Realistically speaking, his past-self had to know deep down there was a very large chance that he was simply heading for a quick and mysterious end. But even now, he remembered the thought of suicide feeling more like a relief than anything; a mere chance to free himself from the depressing darkness that his life had become.
And looking how far he'd come since then—with a new family, new lovers, new siblings, a new war, and the chance to finally win it all—he didn't regret it one bit.
'Should I congratulate myself for giving up then?' He snorted, shaking his head as the sound of Hogwarts Express' familiar whistling honk blared in the background.
Whatever pressed him to make his decision then, he knew he was glad he'd made it, and that was enough. He had a new life now, thinking back to the demons of the past would do him no good.
Sending a quick thanks and empathic condolence to his past self, Harry recast his shield and made his way for the carriage he remembered his family taking. On the other side, he could hear Hagrid bellow out the chants of 'Firs' years!' as the train came to a halt and doors slid open, unleashing the stream of children ready to start upon a new school year.
His part-time lover and siblings seemed to have reverted the hair-charm, making it laughably easy to make out the bunch of redheads, even under less than suitable lighting conditions. And for any who'd look at them up-close, confusing them for Weasley redheads would be almost impossible. Where the gaggle of Weasleys had flaming red hair, almost a shade of orange, the Potter females had dark blood red hair that could be mistaken for maroon under the darkness.
They met him in the middle as the rest of the crowd rushed past, the rain forcing them to not keep gawking once a couple of people recognized him. With a force of his will, he manipulated the Protego shield to extend until it was acting like an enlarged umbrella, protecting all four of them under its glowing blue cover.
"Harry!" The one to exclaim was Rose, who threw herself at his stomach—the highest point she could reach. "I thought you wouldn't come!"
Harry's lips tugged up slightly, his hand extending to muss up the girl's hair. "I would never dare break my promise to you, littlest sister."
"I'm not that little!" Her retort was muffled into his stomach.
"You don't look happy to see us."
He peered up to see Lily frowning slightly.
Laughing, he spread his arms wide and wrapped all three of them in a quick hug—uncaring of the students around them. "Don't worry about it, I was in a philosophical mood. I'm just glad I'm here now."
"Here?" Dorea asked from beneath his arm. "To pick us up?"
He shrugged, letting go, and didn't bother correcting her.
"That was too quick to be counted as a proper hug, don't you think girls?" Lily asked with a smirk, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Harry snorted at the two quick yes', feeling unbelievably lucky to be alive.
"C'mon." He waved at the ladies before he could get overwhelmed by feelings. "You don't want to miss today's welcoming feast."
By the time they reached the line of carriages, Harry had managed to pull himself together, back to his normal self.
The first thing he felt after stepping foot in Hogwarts ground was…guilt. Not for the people he'd failed in his last life, not for the castle he'd failed to protect, not even for the children who'd died to protect him….
He felt guilty because he was…disappointed.
But could he truly be blamed for being slightly unhappy at the carriages that awaited them? The Thestrals were cool, certainly, but they didn't drag the carriages through the air for whatever reason. After having had a glimpse of Beauxbatons, and the possible reason why Fleur had always been so arrogant about her school, he had to admit Hogwarts came off a little lacking.
Combine it with the dreadfully unpredictable English weather and he could see why the old Fleur would prefer France to this.
Still, he wasn't one to complain in the middle of a rainy night.
He herded the ladies into a carriage quickly, and started their ride for Hogwarts. Around the first gate, they found Hogwarts' new security team awaiting them.
He was a little disappointed that it wasn't Tonks, but returned the snap of 'Sir!' with a glad nod all the same.
It was only then that a very thought hit him like a Bludger straight to the noggin.
'I can pull rank over Tonks now.' He felt a smile creep up on his face. 'I can literally order her to attend to me all day and night.'
Especially once he was declared the Hogwarts champion and didn't need to attend classes.
'Oh, things are really looking up for me.'
Of course, there was still the tiny problem of him having not kept his promise to her on that fateful day. He'd missed, quite possibly, the greatest head he would ever hope to receive. Still, he'd deal with the problem when it actually became a problem.
Once they were checked for Polyjuice and illegal charms—even him, due to his own orders—they were finally allowed to exit the Carriage and go in.
Lily transfigured a giant umbrella—he was the one made to hold it, of course—and they reached the cover of Hogwarts' powerful wards with their ankles just a bit drenched.
McGonagall was waiting at the grand doors to welcome the firsties, giving a warm nod of greeting to Lily and a pursed 'Mr. Potter' to him. From his memories, he knew McGonagall wasn't too friendly with his Slytherin self, even though he was a rising champion in Transfiguration.
He thought she would simply go on ignoring him, even with his new, infallible reputation. Instead, she closed the distance between them quickly, her lips still pursed and eyes sterner than ever, and extending a hand at him.
Frowning, he raised his own hand in confusion before he realized her intention.
A slip.
He uncurled the folded paper with a single line.
'I would like to formally invite you to my office for a brief meeting after the welcome feast.'
—Albus Dumbledore
P.S: I'm in the mood for some Cockroach Cluster today. While I've found not many are fond of them, I would be happy to share.
"One of my students will guide you to his office." McGonagall told, whirling around.
"No need." He called after her. "I know the way."
She glanced at him, frowning. "As you wish, Mr. Potter."
He threw away the slip the moment she turned around.
"Don't go." Lily said fiercely, just as McGonagall was out of their ear shot. "You have enough authority to directly disregard Dumbledore's orders. And there's nothing he can do about it."
Harry shook his head. "He will hound me the entire year then. I'll give him five minutes, and come back."
She bit her lips, looking worried. "I can come with you if you want? As a parent if not as your teacher."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax, Lily. There's nothing the old man can do to me. I'm too big of a political powerhouse for any blatant threats."
She didn't stop worrying until their attention was taken in dodging the wet as kitten students that shook off water everywhere, and once they reached the Great Hall, it was too late to argue.
"Promise me you'll be safe." She whispered in his ears, before giving a quick kiss to the cheek at his nod. "Then I'll have to just trust you."
She gave quick farewells to his siblings and went forth to join the teacher's section.
Their entrance hadn't gone unnoticed, of course. They were a constant subject of finger-pointing and whispering across the four tables, but he ignored it all with the practiced grace of a veteran celebrity.
"I have to join the snakes." He informed his sisters. "Make sure to keep my words at heart, I'll see you two later."
He gave them both a quick hug and made his way to the Slytherin table.
He didn't find many friendly eyes there. Cautious, curious, contemptuous, and even fearful, but only one friendly; Blaise Zabini.
The boy himself was sitting alone, away from the rest of the group, his eyes finding Harry's with relief and anticipation. The last time they'd seen each other, Harry had still been the champion of European tournament, having just saved him from torture or worse.
It was difficult to believe your friend going from a loner, 'barely accepted' Slytherin fourth year to a European Champion who saved your life, but it must be downright impossible to accept him becoming the Messiah of the Wizarding World.
Harry could literally read the 'Are we friends or not? Or am I too low on the coolness level to hang out with you now?' in his eyes.
Smiling, Harry headed for the boy. The relief spreading through him almost made him burst out in laughter.
"Lord Potter!" A voice called from around the middle of the table.
'One of the Princes of Slytherin.' His memories came to the fore as his eyes rested on the male 7th year student.
"Come, sit with us." He patted a seat next to him. A very high honor in Slytherin politics, enough to change the game completely…
Harry simply gave a contemptuous snort as he passed him by—taking joy at the shock and rage coursing in the boy's eyes at that—heading at the lower rung of the table where Zabini sat on his lonesome. Even Daphne and the rest of their 'friends' were sitting a couple seats away from him.
"Hey, Harry." The boy greeted with a hesitant smile. "Would your majesty be alright if this lowly peasant called you Harry? I completely understand if you prefer Lord Potter now…"
Blaise gave an awkward laugh, trying to play the question off as a joke while still wanting an honest answer.
"Harry is fine, Blaise." He chuckled. "Though I too completely understand if your humble personage couldn't handle my grandeur. You may call me Lord Potter if you find your tongue burning with unworthiness."
Blaise laughed, much more freely this time. "It's great to have you back, mate. I honestly thought you've left Hogwarts. What could you possibly hope to learn now?"
"When someone stops learning, they also stop progressing." Harry lectured. "And I, for one, plan to climb to the very top and push the limits of boundaries never crossed before."
Blaise stuck his tongue out, hanging his head limply, before suddenly jerking straight with ridiculously crossed eyes. "Huh? What? Progress...crossed boundaries…I'm a limit?"
Harry nodded gravely. "Pretty much, yeah."
The boy chuckled.
They didn't get to talk for long before Dumbledore got his arse up and started his opening speech.
The rest of the feast passed as Harry remembered. He took great joy in reliving a memory of the past—though now as a Snake instead of a Lion— talking and joking with Blaise, and helping himself to some quality food.
When the feast was over and the time for announcements came, there was only one thing different from his past life; the participation of Ilvermorny in the now dubbed Quad-Wizard tournament.
The second surprise didn't come from Dumbledore's speech, but simply from the absence of Moody. It could be tied by the presence of Lupin, and his wife Sara, in the Hogwarts staff, but for some unfathomable reason, he felt a stinging suspicion that something was wrong.
'Barty Crouch Jr.' Harry winced. 'I never properly researched his case.'
He just didn't have the time. Well, he could've, of course, controlled himself from wasting seven hours in fucking the ever loving shit out of his Minister, and actually looked into his case, but he simply couldn't convince himself of ever doing that.
Harry shrugged. 'No man is perfect.'
Plus, he was in a hormonal body that had also received a mega boost to the balls. It was a testament of his great control that he wasn't using his popularity to bang every pretty girl he saw.
…Yet.
As the excited crowd of students started making their way for their dorms, Harry stood up with a deep breath.
"You aren't coming?" Blaise asked, noticing him staring at the teachers' side.
"No, you go on. I have a meeting to catch."
"…Alright, I'll be awake."
With another deep breath, Harry psyched himself up for what was to come.
It was time to meet his former mentor.
---------------------------
With slow and sure steps, Harry Potter made his way to the Headmaster's office, wanting to bury this prickly thorn once and for all.
While he felt prepared to face the behemoth, he hadn't quite counted on the complicated sense of nostalgia that assaulted him with every step. His younger self, it would seem, had hated the headmaster's blatantly Gryffindorish office with all his heart. But Harry on other hand, had nothing save for fond memories created within it, having spent a large part of his final Hogwarts year locked away inside it. Even the sharp tang of bitterness he felt in regards to its owner couldn't quite defeat it.
The office was almost like a reminder of the relatively calm times when everything hadn't gone to shit yet. When Dumbledore was still alive, when the Order stood strong and unrelenting….
When they'd dared to hope of victory.
A shame that hope hadn't lasted for long.
'Doesn't matter. I have another chance now, and the heavens would fall down to join hell before I let Dumbledore ruin it.'
But he would have to keep his game up for this. No matter how much he'd come to despise his former mentor, Albus Dumbledore was a genius the likes of none. Even Hermione, for all her knowledge and ambition, could never have hoped to glimpse the highs that Dumbledore had touched.
More than that however, the old man was...well, old. Old and wise, and scarily perceptive. Harry would need to actively Occlude his mind if he wanted to direct this meeting in his way.
Sighing, he trudged on. 'Merlin help me deal with this fool-man.'
Dumbledore had the ability to ruin all his plans in one go. The old man's overconfidence in his own abilities would always be something that rubbed Harry the wrong way. If he got even a flicker of his plans, Dumbledore would no doubt try to integrate himself with them, forcing his rubbish—and utterly unneeded— wisdom down their throats.
Of course, this forced Harry to acknowledge the fact that he might need to deal with the old man in a more…permanent manner.
By killing him.
He couldn't do it blatantly of course...that would risk the ruination of his plans in Hogwarts. And undoubtedly shatter all his work with the Ministry. He doubted even his reputation could hope to save him from the direct murder of one of the most respected wizards in history of Wizardkind.
No...he would need to either keep him completely in the dark—a very tall order—or he would have to make some less than moral arrangements for him.
'A slight push down the stairs could do the trick.' Harry mused, gaining a sudden bout of inspiration. 'He's old and clumsy…no one would suspect if they found him buried in a plant, arse up.'
Though he had to admit, while the thought of revenge felt sweet, actually killing Dumbledore would have much larger consequences that he wasn't ready to handle. Whatever happens, he couldn't let another 'Dementor' situation take place.
As he turned the corner and finally came to face the Gargoyle, all thoughts of assassination left his mind.
With a deep breath, Harry readied himself to face the man he'd once considered his mentor. "Well…here goes nothing."
It was time to meet possibly the most dangerous wizard in the world right now…
-----------------------------
Albus Dumbledore dumped his butt down on his office chair, sighing a sleepy sigh. The bowl of Cockroach Clusters sitting innocently on his desk had never looked more enticing before. Those brown, nut-shaped candies, full of sugary powder….
He hesitated only briefly before his hand snapped at the bowl and a couple of candies were promptly thrown in his mouth.
Dumbledore laid back, sucking contently. 'Another new start to another new year.'
Though this time it promised to be an interesting one.
This year was bound to have some unwanted action, Albus knew. Action that he had long hoped wouldn't reach the walls of Hogwarts.
Yet it had, and there was little he could do about it now.
Then again, perhaps it was a fitting farewell to him. His last year in Hogwarts may not pass as peacefully as he'd hoped, but at least it promised him a chance to go out fighting. Certainly not a bad way to go, though quite unusual for a man who'd worked towards peace his whole life.
And it was now time to pass on the mantle. Prepare his successor and learn to trust.
Now, if only his chosen successor wouldn't turn out to be a possessed Dark Lord…
'This night shall let me know everything.' The only thing remaining was to wait for his guest to arrive.
It was surprising really, how quickly Harry had grown in the course of a week. To be capable of convincing the Minister of sacrificing Azkaban, just to catch Voldemort in a trap...
It spoke of a certain ruthlessness that Dumbledore had always lacked. But if one was to win a war against two Dark Lords, perhaps ruthlessness was exactly the quality needed.
'He'll be a better leader than me.' Dumbledore concluded, smiling wryly. 'A shame the bar isn't as high as I would've liked.'
Some would say the boy had already crossed that bar. The amount of authority Harry Potter had managed to grasp over the Ministry now, had once taken a young, more ambitious Dumbledore years to build.
If one needed a sign to believe that Harry Potter would be a vastly better leader, they need only look at the results of what he'd accomplished with that authority.
Hogwarts, for instance, was usually left alone on its own devices, with the Ministry and Governors trusting Dumbledore to handle the school as he liked.
Yet, not even a week since his appointment as the head of Aurors, Harry had somehow managed to replace the entire group of Governors—including Lucius Malfoy—that oversaw the school's happenings, and then proceeded to post a squad of no less than seven Aurors to guard the school campus.
While Dumbledore had been miffed to see the Aurors flying around the campus all day, plotting its grounds and towers, and disturbing his afternoon tea party with a few friendly elves, he had quickly grown to forgive their grave mistake for the level of competence they'd displayed. While it would certainly be an interesting sight to see; Harry Potter, a boy with mere fourteen years of experience in living, commanding Aurors twice and thrice his age, Dumbledore did wonder about the presence of Nymphadora Tonks. The girl, while undoubtedly impressive, had been amongst the latest batch of students to graduate from Hogwarts. To see her flying alongside much more experienced Auror made him believe something more mysterious was going on.
He chuckled. 'Oh, young love.'
He hoped his guess was true. For that alone would do wonders in convincing him of Harry's allegiance.
Sighing, Dumbledore cast a quick 'Tempus'. The boy was certainly taking his sweet time. Normally he would've let him enjoy his first night, and bided his time patiently. But truth be told he feared greatly of dying abruptly without receiving any chance to right his wrongs.
It was imperative for them to speak today, and quickly.
'We cannot fight the same enemy from two different fronts.'
And today's meeting will determine how successful they would be in putting up a united front.
Like all meetings, this one started with a knock on his door.
"Enter."
The one who entered was no child, that much was clear to Dumbledore's eyes. While he considered most to be students in his eyes, no matter their age, this one carried with him a certain...grimness. Along with a weight and a threat.
He would like to say it was only due to his physical masculinity; the broad shoulders, the well trimmed hint of beard, the depth of his face...but it would be false. It was in his eyes and demeanor; the cautious gaze that flickered around the room with barely suppressed Paranoia before it came to rest on him, the taut muscles that looked ready to burst into motion at the barest hint of hostility...
The boy in front of him was no child—certainly not the Harry Potter he knew— and he looked ready for war.
Dumbledore swallowed a sigh. Not even a word and they were already off to a bad start.
'This will be difficult.'
With a deep, calming breath, Dumbledore forced a beaming smile on his face. "Good evening, Mr. Potter."
The young man stayed quiet, his piercing eyes pinning him under a mightily complicated gaze, before he gave a brief nod. "Dumbledore."
'A bad start indeed.'
Dumbledore chuckled. "Am I no longer considered a Headmaster in your eyes, Mr. Potter? Or a professor?"
Harry Potter grimaced, giving a small acquiescing nod. "Professor Dumbledore." Then he cocked his head and continued. "Though you are partially correct. I shall not consider you my Headmaster after this year."
Dumbledore smiled slightly, which he was sure must've looked frustratingly mysterious. "You wouldn't need to."
He maintained his smile as the boy's eyes went flat. "Though it is still troubling to hear. May I ask why, my dear boy?"
"First, that." The boy pointed at him, lips twisting in a grimace. "Your patronizing is something I'm just not willing to tolerate anymore. Secondly, there is very little Hogwarts can give me that I cannot find outside its wall's. And one year should be enough to learn that 'very little'."
Dumbledore struggled to maintain his smile, feeling his age weight on his shoulders as he continued observing the boy. 'It is clear I'm not talking to Voldemort, though it is also clear I'm not talking to the Harry Potter I knew.'
He was sure the boy was only feeding him what he wanted him to know; but even those simple choices proved in Dumbledore's eyes that the boy was no Dark Lord in the making. As for his accusations of patronizing…well, old men had a habit of taking some things for granted; their ability to be infuriating and getting away with it scot free was one of them.
Still, that was not what he was truly worried about. And he doubted the boy was either…there was something else the boy disliked about him; something deeper than the personality of an old man.
'Just who are you, my boy?' He peered at him over his glasses, letting his trusty twinkle try to pull him off of his constant caution.
If anything, the boy grew even colder, eyes twitching in what could be mistaken for exasperation, but Dumbledore could see a darker side to it.
Not darker as in 'I'm hiding a Dark Lord's soul inside myself that's influencing my decisions' but a more natural kind of 'darker' that he'd only ever seen in people who believed they'd been wronged. Most often by him.
'Now whatever could I have done to him?' Dumbledore closed his eyes, feeling his ever igniting edge of curiosity slowly bleeding away.
'Should I keep fighting? Keep needling until he slips up?'
He found himself wavering. To see another person who most likely blames Dumbledore for whatever wrong hand they'd been dealt in life was…depressing.
But then again, he had wronged the boy, hadn't he? He'd judged him without any basis, played a hand—no matter how unintentional—in dividing him from his family. The Potters had always hated him for it, so it was understandable if the boy picked up on that hate, along with the mantle of Lord Potter.
Yet, something convinced him it was more personal than that. A sudden feeling of intuition that screamed at him only one thing: You've wronged the boy gravely, and this is much more personal than an inherited family feud.
His thoughts spun a dark web within his mind, and he felt his hand flaming up in irritating bouts of pain as stress began taking hold of him. 'I don't have much time before I'm forced to retire.'
At least he had enough grasp of the boy to conclude that he wasn't some Dark Lord secretly plotting a web. 'And isn't that enough for now?'
…No. No, it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
He needed the boy to trust him. Needed Harry Potter to work together with him, to make use of his knowledge and expertise before Death claimed him.
Yet, he cannot win a war against someone unwilling to engage. The wizard in front of him wasn't even giving him a chance to convince him, what more could he possibly do?
"You don't like me." Dumbledore sighed, finally giving up.
He wasn't long for this world. Even if there was some darkness still hidden inside the boy's adequately occluded mind, he had too little time to play a game of words, and too little fight to win.
"I never have." The boy replied bluntly, and Dumbledore couldn't help but smile.
"But you never showed it so openly before." He argued lightly.
"I have no reason to hide it anymore." Harry Potter's lips twisted in a horrid smirk, "If you don't recall with age, I'm the biggest celebrity of England currently. And more powerful than you, politically."
"True." Dumbledore nodded sagely, eyeing the boy critically. For all his words, he didn't sound boastful or arrogant, simply...goading.
'What do you wish to prove to me, child?'
"Well...there is no point to this then. Let me simply ask you, Harry. What do you plan to do?"
Albus absently noted brief hints of surprise flickering on his face before they were hidden under the coldness of Occlumency.
"To win this war." He answered.
Dumbledore smiled. "And how do you plan to do that?"
"By winning the war."
He chuckled. "Very true. And how will you win the war?"
"By defeating some people."
Dumbledore hummed, nodding slowly. "…And am I one of those people, Mr. Potter?"
The boy shrugged. "I don't know. Are you?"
"That, is an excellent question, my young friend." He stood up, slowly removing the glove, before unraveling the long cloth wrapped around his hand. "You tell me, Mr. Potter."
Finally, his hand was bared to the world. Without the charmed pieces of cloth keeping it restrained, Dumbledore clearly felt the sharp pangs of pain coursing through every inch of his finger, burning through his veins and blood, yet he kept smiling. "Am I someone that needs defeating?"
All shreds of Occlumency seemed to leave his young friend, his eyes growing bigger and bigger slowly. "No, no, no…you can't die. Not yet!"
"I'm afraid that's not in my hands, Mr. Potter."
"It's not your time yet!" He bellowed, eyes glowing in rage. "Fuck. Fuck, Dumbledore! You ruin everything! Always! The moment you die, Grindelwald will come back to England like a spiteful divorced wife looking for your property! Goddamn it, Old man!"
"That is oddly specific." Dumbledore winced. More at the vulgarity than the accusations. "I take it my death wasn't in your plan?"
"I hate you." The boy said very, very seriously. "I hate you with all my heart. But no, I wouldn't wish you to die so early, unless you become a threat to me."
Dumbledore started wrapping his hand again, while the boy paced up and down the room with closed eyes.
"How long?" He asked, and Dumbledore didn't need clarification.
"Ten months. Perhaps less, depending on my stress levels."
Harry grimaced. "Even going out, you like to make a mess."
That accusation hurt more than he was willing to admit.
Chuckling sadly, Dumbledore asked again. "Will you tell me your plan, now?"
The boy stopped pacing, eyes suddenly narrowing as they peered at his face with suspicion.
"Harry," Dumbledore swallowed thickly. "There is nothing I have anymore. You know the feel of Death, you've come face to face with it recently. Now you've seen my hand, can you not see the truth? There is no way to replicate that, no way I can fool anyone."
Albus Dumbledore spread his arms wide, helpless.
"You're talking to a dead man, Harry. Please…I've made a lot of mistakes, and I need a chance to repent. I have less than a year to earn my absolution before I depart for my next great journey. Put your trust in me Harry, not because you should, but because you can afford to. I don't have time to pull any elaborate plans."
He could see it then. The moment his eyes turned from cold to…angry. It wasn't the dark, malicious anger a Horcrux of Voldemort would produce…but the bitter anger and contemptuous one of a betrayed trust.
"You want to know the truth, Dumbledore?"
There was something cruel in his gaze now. Something schadenfreude inducing…
"Very well…I will show you. I will show you everything. But first, swear the unbreakable oath to me."
Dumbledore blinked only once before he nodded. "Very well. But we will need a third person to bond the oath."
Harry paused, brows creasing.
"I would suggest Severu—"
"Nope." The denial was cold and harsh, surprising Dumbledore.
"I thought you trusted him?"
"No. Not him. I don't want him to hear whatever I have to say." The boy seemed adamant.
"Harry, I assure you, you can trust him."
His chuckle could've frozen the black lake. "Yeah, that wouldn't be turning out well for you, I assure you that."
"And if I promise that I have a very strong reason to trust him? What if I say I already have an unbreakable oath in effect?"
Finally the boy listened, his eyes brewing a complicated mixture of emotions that even Dumbledore couldn't pierce.
"Go on." The boy urged. "Tell me about this oath then."
"My reasons to trust Snape are deeper than this, but you may take comfort in knowing he is sworn to protect my secrets and follow my guidance under an unbreakable oath."
Harry nodded slowly. "And who was your bonder?"
"…My brother." He admitted, a little reluctant.
"Very well then. Call Snape and make the oath."
And so they did.
--------------------------
30 minutes later
Harry stood over the magical basin, looking over the glowing strands of memories flowing like water; ghostly wisps dancing slowly, swirling like a patient tornado as his memories were drowned within.
"Go on, then." Harry waved at the old man. "I won't be accompanying you. I've no wish to relive them."
He wasn't surprised when Dumbledore simply nodded and dove in.
Harry leaned back with a sigh, his mind visiting the craziness the last hour or so had brought him.
The old man had been patient throughout the time. From accepting his outrageous oaths that basically made a slave out of him, to diving into unknown memories without any explanation.
Harry could simply whip out his wand and kill him, taking the Death stick for himself if he so wished, and none would be wiser.
'Why aren't you doing it then?' The question came.
But he knew the answer of course. Why kill a potentially useful ally? Not only was the old man a treasure trove of knowledge—something he doubted those captured Death Eaters could provide—but he was also an incredibly intelligent person who wished to do nothing but serve him in any way he could.
'Is that all?' His voice needled him again, and he couldn't help but be frustrated as his biggest fear was given a thought. 'Are you sure you aren't beginning to trust him again?'
Harry stood up, pacing the room under the curious eyes of the portraits.
He can't trust Dumbledore. Of course, he can't. He knew that. He'd known it for two lifetimes now. Surely he won't make the same mistake again?
But he's under oath. Oath that would take his life should he break them.
No! He is already dying anyway! How much is the unbreakable oath worth, when the price for breaking it is something that will be taken from him one way or the other anyway?
How could he trust Dumbledore not to go out while giving him a middle finger? How could he trust him not to figure out some wiggle room to start planning something utterly stupid, all for the greater good?
The oaths bind him more tightly than any leash, but if there was one person who might be able to outwit magic itself, then it was Dumbledore.
"Merlin damn him." Harry muttered with a sigh, taking a seat at the Headmaster's chair.
He couldn't trust Dumbledore, even with the oaths.
And then there was Snape as well. The bastard had been too calm and quiet when faced with a completely absurd situation. If one day your employer asks you to put a chain around his neck and hand the leash to a child who obviously loathes him, how would you feel?
Harry suspected Snape felt amused.
His Slytherin self had been close with the man, almost viewing him as a mentor the same way Harry had viewed Dumbledore once upon a time.
But if the man felt weird at the sudden coldness and suspicion, he didn't show it. And without Harry's permission, Dumbledore won't be telling him either.
Harry took another deep breath, his eyes falling on the bowl of Cockroach Clusters…
"Yeah, no thanks. I'm not that desperate yet."
Sighing, he pushed himself up again. 'I should look at the positives. Why always expect the worst? It could all turn out for good…'
He stopped and snorted. 'Yeah, right.'
He didn't even know if showing Dumbledore those memories was a good decision. At first, Harry had just wanted to torture the man with scenes of horror, to show him how badly he'd fucked up, to let him witness with his own eyes the destruction his mistakes had birthed.
Yet now, he couldn't help but question his decision.
If Dumbledore was the same cunning bastard he'd been in the last life, then baring his soul to him might've been the most stupid decision he'd ever taken.
But if he was trustworthy—as a part of him so desperately wanted to believe—then he's just given Dumbledore a massive spike of stress that would probably cut his lifeline in half.
'That was stupid of me…' He closed his eyes, before a different thought hit his brain like a sledgehammer. 'Bella should've been the one to see my truth first.'
Sighing, he sat back down.
Yet, even with things not having gone his way, he couldn't deny a huge relief spreading through him right now; as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. To have another person knowing his truth, to share his burden and goals…it was liberating.
A shame that another soul was Dumbledore of all people.
His eyes went to the bowl of Cockroach Clusters once again…
'Oh, fuck it.'
He swiped a couple and popped them in his mouth, readying himself to what was sure to be a long wait…
-------------------------
30 Minutes later…
It was only after another thirty minutes that Dumbledore came back down to earth, tears freely flowing down his long silvery beard, making them twinkle under the candle light.
"I made some horrible, horrible mistakes." Were the first words thrown out of his mouth, his eyes still shedding a water-fall. "I understand now; your hatred and distrust. It was every bit deserving."
Harry stayed quiet.
"What do you plan to do, Harry?" He asked for the third time that night, but this time he looked so lost and desperate, Harry didn't have it in his heart to deny him.
"I plan to raze them from existence, of course."
Dumbledore closed his eyes, bowing down. "You've seen so much death, my boy. Is that truly the only way? We can think of something else. I can help you find a more peaceful—"
The words were barely out of his mouth that Harry found himself closing the distance and holding him by the collar.
"Listen to me, Old man." There was fury in his words, barely suppressed and very hateful. "You failed. You fucking failed, and you failed the whole world too."
Dumbledore clenched his eyes tighter.
"So from now forth, we do things my way." He shook the sobbing man. "Cause if not? If not, I will take my family and leave this country to rot by itself."
His eyes snapped open instantly, looking completely aghast as he stared up at him. "No...you will never do that. The boy I saw in there would neve—"
"The boy you saw is dead!" Harry bellowed in his face, spittle flying everywhere. "I killed him the moment I decided to use that blasted Turner! I, you, all the people of this country, we all killed him. Do you understand me, old man? That self-sacrificing fool is dead."
"No, Harry...there is still him somewhere inside your heart." Dumbledore whispered, but he looked to be trying to convince himself.
Harry clutched the old man's shoulder tightly. "Dumbledore, I tried. I tried to save everyone. I failed. And now I know...it wasn't just because I wasn't good enough...it was also because you weren't ready for my help. The people of England, the Ministry, and you...you all failed me before I failed you. I won't make the same mistake again. I've been given a second chance...either things go my way...or I leave. Do you understand?"
The old man could only nod, knowing he'd lost.
"We have much to plan now. So start talking. Everything you know, on your oath, you will reveal them to me. From tomorrow, you will teach me Elemental magic, you will start experimenting on Dementors, you will do everything in your power to prepare me for the war to come. I cannot handle two Dark Lords as I am. We either need to eliminate one by the time of your death…or I need to become the most powerful fucking wizard to have ever walked this planet."
It was time to change the gears of war. And dare he say…Harry was quite looking forward to it.
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AN: I'm back! After 6 months yea, but finally here.
I also have a confession to make, something I've tried to deny to myself but simply can't anymore; SOW is really fucking hard for me to write. My two biggest Hiatus came solely because I was stuck on this story (at the latest patron chaps) from Sept to Nov and then from Jan till now.
Idk, I guess it just takes time for me to get back into this story, after writing high action-packed ones like my other two fics. So if it feels like the next chap's giving me trouble, I will move on to my other fics without updating this one, then come back to it later. I apologize in advance. As much as I love writing, forcing myself to bang two braincells together when it comes to this story is really taking a toll on me. I'm still very much invested in SOW, don't get me wrong, but I don't think this is a story I can write on the fly like my other two.
Anyway, really hope you all enjoyed the chap! With this, we're officially in the next arc of SOW! I'll try to keep up my schedule, but even if I miss a rotation, I'll definitely try to update this again soon.
Let me know your thoughts on the chapter, and I'll see you guys in the next chap. Peace!
My discord: discord .gg/9wpfysDGsz to discuss fics, chill, and see character images.
My Pat reon: www. Pat reon com/ Robs511 (No spaces and a dot before com) for anyone who wants to read upto the next three chaps of all my fics.
P.S: A lot of people have asked me this, but the reason you can't subscribe to my Pat reon rn is because I've stalled payment for the last two months. I just felt shitty taking money for something I wasn't doing as promised, so to catch up (sort of) I've put it on hold while I keep updating. I'll resume it for April if I succeed in posting at least two more times this month. Sorry for the inconvenience!