Hi all,
This is the main story thread. Just sit back, read and enjoy.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It is not just the pen, pieces of paper, you and your
mind involved in writing a line, a page or a story.
There are many things and many people, who
directly or indirectly influence us in our work. It’d do
them great injustice if they were not thanked
properly from our sides.

I take this opportunity to thank Ms. J. K. Rowling,
for her ageless, Harry Potter series. I also thank
her for her generous and kind permission to let fans
write fanfics. By doing this, she’s helped us keep our
magical world alive even after the seven books.
Thank you Ms. Rowling.

Thanks to www.veritaserum.com-site, forums, staff
and members, who helped increase my knowledge
of the wizarding world beyond the books.

Thanks to HBO channel, for creating an interest for
Harry Potter in me.

Thanks to the old man, from whom I
bought the first five HP books.

Thanks to the tiny shop, from where I
bought my sixth HP book.

Thanks to the Odyssey Store, from where
I bought my seventh HP book.

Thanks to my younger brother,
for no particular reason.

Thanks to Bill Gates, for Microsoft, particularly
MS Word, without which I can’t write a
line with correct grammar and all.

Before I begin to thank my study table, chair,
books and pens, I should conclude this now.
However, last but not the least, thanks to the
‘world wide web’ and ‘VTM’, without which
I couldn’t be able to make my fanfic
reachable to you all.

Thank you everyone!

Dedicated to
Ms J.K.Rowling
for creating the HP world
and
Dr. Rubina Ansari, my friend
for introducing me to the HP world

FOREWORD
‘The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore’ is written
based on facts and events described in the seven
books of the ‘Harry Potter’ series by J. K. Rowling. Also
included, are certain facts which Ms. Rowling has
revealed after the publication of the seventh book,
in her various interviews.

I have written the fic with utmost care and after a
lot of research and thorough understanding of the
various events in the series. However, errors are
bound to occur as I’m human after all, and I hope,
considering that you’ll forgive me if I go wrong
anywhere.

The fic is written with Albus Dumbledore as the
protagonist, describing his life, his relations and
his nature taking into consideration the facts and
evidences from the first to sixth book. I’ve tried
to keep the fic as close to the main legend as
possible. The result of which you’ll find few lines in it,
handpicked word-for-word from the main legend.
However, the scenes involving Dumbledore
are exclusively my own fictional creation.
Of course, the names of people and places
are those created by J.K.R.

In the fic, there are few events, which I’m afraid
will evoke mixed responses among you all. However,
I assure you that I never had the intention to tarnish
the great image of Dumbledore. If at all you feel
otherwise, I request you to remain patient and read
the complete fic, before forming an opinion about it and
me. In addition, it is better for die-hard Dumbledore fans
to not read the fic at all.

Finally, I wish to say that Dumbledore is a
great wizard, no matter what! I am a great
admirer of this particular creation of
J. K. Rowling and nothing ever would take away
the magnificent effect he’s made on my mind
and nature.

In the hope that it will be the same for you and
that you will love the story as you love
Dumbledore, I present to you-‘The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore’.
I hope you enjoy reading it much more than
I had in writing it.

~WGP

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Chapter 1-
The Mirror of Erised



The man descended the stairs, careful not to make
noise. He was tall, thin and very old. His long silver
hair and beard shone in the dimly lit Hogwart’s
corridors. He was wearing half moon spectacles over
a crooked nose. Behind them were light blue eyes,
shining brightly even in the dim light.

Albus Dumbledore turned left and walked. The
portraits around were in deep sleep. The Christmas
feast was over and he was sure that most of the
people would be asleep, but he knew not everyone
was. The slightest noise and Flich would come with his cat.
Not that it would matter of course. A flick of his wand
would be sufficient to wipe off what Flich would see,
but he did not want to be seen tonight. He wanted to
do this alone, without anyone. Just like many other
times in the past- Secrets and Lies. Yes, that was how
this had to be.

Dumbledore peered cautiously towards the narrow
corridor. It was empty. Hurriedly, he walked into it. It
was difficult for him to move slowly now. Now, that
he was so near to it. The object had been moved in
that day and Dumbledore could wait no longer to see
it. Christmas feast, presents, wishes had delayed him
long enough. He walked fast, his boots making loud noises.
Then he saw it. There it was the suit of amour, near a closed door.
‘Alohomora’, he whispered tapping the lock with his
wand and it clicked open. He pushed the door and entered
the room leaving the door slightly ajar.

He found himself in a disused classroom.
The dark shapes of the desks and chairs were piled
against the walls and there was an upturned
waste-paper basket. He looked up. Propped against
the wall was a magnificent mirror, as high as ceiling, with
an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed
feet. There was an inscription carved around
the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Dumbledore stepped in front of the mirror, his eyes
closed. He dreaded the reflection he would see. Would
they blame him for all what happened? He stood with
closed eyes for a minute, but the desire to look at them
was increasing-until he jerked his eyes open. There
they were, all of them, smiling at him, their eyes warm
and understanding.
‘Ah… of course, you would be smiling’, said Dumbledore
to the reflections.

He looked at himself, tall with dark shoulder length
hair, his nose straight, unbroken. Next to him was Aberforth,
his brother, with the same shoulder length hair, a foot
shorter than he was. In the front stood Ariana, his sister,
sweet and blond, inheriting his father’s hair. She had the
most understanding smile, felt Dumbledore. He looked
up at the handsome man and the woman whose jet-black
hair was pulled into a high bun. Percival’s twinkling eyes
found Albus’s and it seemed to him, they were telling him
not to worry. Kendra was smiling too, her dark eyes warm
with affection for her eldest son.

Dumbledore stood watching them hungrily and
sadly. He was ready to give anything he had to
get them back. One after the other, they had all
gone. It was all his fault. His selfish nature and his
association with him… Him? Yes, him. Dumbledore
looked into the mirror again. But he did not find
him there. He could only see the five Dumbledores,
his family. He blinked his teary eyes and gave
a dry chuckle after a minute.
‘But my deepest desire…’ he said stupidly.
He turned and sat himself behind a desk, still
looking at the reflections. How long he sat there,
he didn’t know. He must have dozed off. Sudden
noises outside woke him up with a start.

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‘You asked me to come directly to you,
Professor, if anyone was wandering around at
night, and somebody’s been in the library-Restricted Section’
spoke a greasy voice.
Filch! What’s he doing here, thought Dumbledore.
And then-
‘The Restricted Section? Well, they can’t be far,
we’ll catch them’ spoke another voice.
Snape! There was no mistaking that silky voice. So,
students out of bed. Should he go and look too?
Dumbledore looked at the mirror. No, he did not
want to leave them and go.
‘Being selfish again, Albus?’ asked a voice in his head.
‘I-‘started Dumbledore, but a movement occurred near the
door. Quickly he tapped his head with his wand. He felt
the sensation of having an egg cracked open on his head
and the cold feeling spread gradually to his legs and
then his feet. The Disillusionment Charm having been
put, Dumbledore looked towards the door.

It was a small, skinny boy, 11 years old with jet-black
hair, sticking out behind. Harry Potter, in his father’s
invisibility cloak, which Dumbledore had given him that
very morning. Dumbledore watched as Harry
approached the mirror. He wondered what
‘The Boy who Lived’ might be seeing.
‘Legilimens’, he said is his mind directing his
wand at Harry.
There was a whole crowd of people standing
behind Harry’s reflection. Directly behind Harry was
a very pretty woman, with dark red hair. Beside her
a man with very untidy hair. Lily and James!
Dumbledore was fascinated. Harry was seeing just
what he had. He watched as Harry went near the mirror,
his nose nearly touching that of his reflection. Dumbledore
let Harry sit there long enough to watch his family.
However, it was getting late and Harry was after
all a student. He ought to be in bed. Dumbledore made
a sudden noise, bringing Harry back to the world
and Harry hastily went away promising to come back.

Dumbledore smiled at the exiting figure of Harry.
How amusing and engaging, he thought.
He sighed and looked back at his own family’s reflection.
‘I’m sorry’, he whispered, ‘I had loved you all…always.
Forgive me please, for being selfish. Mom? Dad? Will
you?’ and suddenly he cried, all dignity lost for a great
old wizard he was. Finally, regaining control, he
sighed deeply and left the room as quietly as he had
come, without looking back at the mirror.

*

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Hogwarts was covered in thick white snow. It
was freezing cold and everyone preferred to be
indoors, the students in their common rooms and the
staff in their studies. Dumbledore was sitting behind
his desk in his large and beautiful circular study. The
silver instruments around were whirring and emitting
little puffs of smoke and the portraits of the old
headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing
deeply. He was not however, alone. Snape was pacing
up and down in front of Dumbledore.
“-mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rule-breaker,
delighted to find himself famous, attention seeking and
impertinent…” he was saying.
“You see what you expect to see, Severus,” said Dumbledore
reading a copy of Transfiguration Today. “Other
teachers report that the boy is modest, likeable and
reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging
child”, he said thinking of last night. Dumbledore turned
a page and said without looking up, “Keep an eye
on Quirrell, won’t you?”

Snape turned and left without a word. Dumbledore
looked up at his exiting figure. Here was another man,
just like himself, who had lost love. Dumbledore sighed
as he wondered how it must be for Snape to protect
the child of the woman he loved and the man he
hated all his life.
“Love…” he said to himself, putting the copy of Transfiguration
Today on the table. It had been a long time, almost
45 years since that dreadful night. Dumbledore had no
idea how he might be. But knowing him, he’d be all
right, even in those claustrophobic surroundings. He felt
it again, that desire-to see him just the one time again
and Dumbledore knew that the narrow corridor on the
fifth floor required his visit again.

*

“Look! Look at them all…there are loads of them…”
“I can only see you.”
“Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am.”
The voices were coming from inside the room near the
suit of amour, on the fifth floor. Dumbledore stood outside
listening, the Disillusionment Charm already in place
this time. He listened as Harry and his friend Ron
Weasley spoke.
“Look at me!” Ron’s voice exclaimed.
“Can you see all your family standing around you?”
“No-I’m alone-but I’m different-I look older-and I’m
Head boy!”
“What?”
Dumbledore chuckled. Obviously, he said as he thought
of the Weasleys. He listened again. The boys seemed
to quarrelling now.
“You had it to yourself all last night; give me a bit
more time.”
“You’re only holding the Quidditch Cup, what’s interesting
in that? I want to see my parents.”
“Don’t push me-“
There voices stopped suddenly for Dumbledore made a
loud noise in the corridor, the boys were talking very
loudly and Dumbledore feared someone else would
discover about the mirror.
“Come on” Ron said and Dumbledore watched as he
pulled Harry out of the room.
Perhaps the innocence of the boys changed Dumbledore’s
mind, but he no longer wished to see that man in the
mirror. He turned and walked back to his study.

*

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The snow hadn’t melted the next morning.
Fawkes, the phoenix, croaked merrily, as Dumbledore
sat in his office, thinking deeply. Harry Potter was
showing a lot of interest in the mirror. Of course, given
the fact what he was seeing Dumbledore wouldn’t
blame him. Just the same, Harry was not a normal boy.
He was a marked boy. Marked for a horrifying future,
which would most certainly result in his very end.
Then again, he couldn’t know everything now itself.
He wouldn’t understand.

Dumbledore imagined Harry, sitting in front of him,
in all his innocence.
“Harry, do you know about the prophecy? Do you know
about Hallows?”
No, that wouldn’t do. Definitely not. It would have to wait,
until he would be ready. It would have to wait, wait for
The Greater Good…
But now, there was work to be done.

*

Dumbledore sat at a desk, in the room on the fifth
floor. The Mirror of Erised, still in front of him. However,
he was not looking at it. He was looking towards the
door, waiting for Harry to come, for he knew, that Harry,
most certainly would. Sure enough, Harry walked in,
wearing his invisibility cloak. He looked neither right nor
left, went straight to the mirror. Dumbledore watched as
Harry sat in front of it, the cloak beside him on the floor.
“So- back again Harry?” said Dumbledore.
“I- I didn’t see you sir”, said Harry frightened.
Dumbledore smiled, making Harry relax.
“So,” said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the
floor with Harry, “you, like hundreds before you, have
discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”
“I didn’t know it was called that, sir.”
“But I expect you realized what it does?”
“It- well- it shows my family…”
“And it showed your friend Ron himself as Head boy.”
“How did you know- ?”
“I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” said Dumbledore
gently. “Now can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows
us at all?”
Harry shook his head.
“It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest,
most desperate desire of our hearts,” continued
Dumbledore quietly. “However, this mirror gives us
neither knowledge nor truth. The Mirror will be moved
to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to
go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you
will be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams
and forget to live, remember that.”
“Sir- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?”
“Obviously, you’ve just done so,” Dumbledore smiled.
“You may ask me one more thing, however.”
“What do you see when you look in the Mirror?”
“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, wollen socks.”
Harry stared.
“One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore.
“Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get
a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”

Harry went away. Dumbledore sighed. There it was he
thought bitterly. Another lie. ‘Secrets and Lies’! That’s all
he was in his life. A selfish man from the beginning. How
could he tell Harry the truth, which was so beautiful and
terrible? He wasn’t… How would he explain it to him? It would
all go back to Hallows, to Godric’s Hollow, to… And Dumbledore
could hold himself no longer. The desire burned, like a
volcano, ready to erupt. Its fumes and vapours hot, until
finally it erupted. Dumbledore stood up, looking directly
at the mirror.

He could see the reflections clearly. There were two
boys in it, both in their teens. Albus, with dark hair and
a wisp of beard clearly visible on his chin. Beside him stood
another boy. Dumbledore walked towards the mirror. His
hand touched the reflection of the other boy, touched his
handsome face, his golden locks, his triumphant smile.
“Gellert…” whispered Dumbledore. “Why? Why did you have
to do that? Did I not-?” he said, his eyes watery and
voice shaking.
“I had loved you… I still do… Was it not enough, Gell? Did I
not do enough for you… for us…? Why are you there and
not here then?”
So close, yet so far thought Dumbledore. The Grindelwald
in the mirror smiled. Even in all the silence Dumbledore
could hear his voice screaming in delight, “Masters of Death
Albus! You and I!” He could hear their laughter, their
discussions about Hallows and their time together, when
there was nothing to talk, but still so much to do…

Gellert Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore’s biggest
secret and biggest lie. He could never share this
with anyone. This relation was very very dear to him.
Nothing could replace this man in his life. Nothing ever!
But that was over now. It had been beautiful and terrible,
but now, it was over. All over. He could not live in the
past. He had to be brave, like his father, like his mother,
his brother.

Slowly Dumbledore turned and walked towards the door.
The Mirror would be moved and Dumbledore decided he
would not look for it again, just as he had advised
Harry, not to. He stood near the door and turned for a
final glance.
“I love you, Gellert Grindelwald,” he said softly and left,
closing the door behind him.

*
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Chapter 2-
Godric's Hollow


Harry Potter was lying on a soft bed in the Hospital
Wing, talking to Dumbledore, who sat at the bedside
bending a little to look more closely at Harry. He was
impressed by the boy very much. Harry had shown
outstanding courage, fighting Voldemort, in the dungeons,
to save the Philosopher’s Stone.
“Destroyed?” said Harry when Dumbledore informed him
that Nicolas Flamel had destroyed the stone.
“But your friend- Nicolas Flamel” continued Harry.
“Well Nicolas and I had a little chat and agreed it’s all
for the best,” said Dumbledore.
“But that means he and his wife will die, won’t they?”
Dumbledore smiled at Harry’s amazed look.
“To one as young as you, I’m sure it seems incredible,
but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it is really like going bed
after a very long day. After all, to the well-organised mind,
death is but the next great adventure…,” said Dumbledore
to his own amazement, remembering the time he had
realized that himself.
Harry was saying something and Dumbledore had to
make an effort to come back.
“- Sir… Even if the stone’s gone, Vol-… I mean,
You-Know-Who-“
“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name
for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.”
Dumbledore quoted him to Harry.
“Sir, why did Voldemort wand to kill me in the first place?”
Dumbledore sighed very deeply.
“Will you believe me, Harry, if I say I have a very good
reason to not answer this question? I cannot tell you.
Not today. Not now. You will know, one day… When you are
older… When you are ready…”
“Yes sir. But why couldn’t Quirrell touch me?”
“Your mother died to save you Harry. Your very skin carries
that mark of love she had for you. Quirrell full of hatred and
greed could not bear the agony to touch a person marked
by something so good.”
Then both the wizards, old and young, were lost in
their thoughts. Dumbledore was going back in time,
the memories rushing to him, impatiently, as the
water of the sea rushes, impatient at tides. And
Dumbledore wished to be soaked in them, to let them
wet him, to let them carry him away, but Harry was
asking something again. With an effort, he answered
Harry and left for his study.

*

The sky was a forget-me-not blue colour.
Students filled the Hogwart’s grounds, talking
and laughing, enjoying the cool breeze.Dumbledore
sat behind his desk recollecting his conversation with
Harry. How very similar… early losses… mother’s sacrifice.
The world was spinning, round and round, without a
portkey. He was going back, without moving a step,
going back in memories. The scenes whirled and whirled until…

A boy was sitting on his bed, ‘Hogwarts- a History’ by
Bathilda Bagshot, propped open in front of him. He was
10 years old, tall for his age. His blue eyes twinkled as
he turned a page, and found the chapter he was looking
for. Godric’s Hollow.
‘Upon the Signature of the International Statute of Secrecy
of 1689,’ he read, ‘wizards went into hiding for good.
It was natural, perhaps, that they formed their own small
communities within a community. Most celebrated of these
half-magical dwellings is, perhaps, Godric’s Hollow the
West Country village where the great wizard
Godric Gryffindor was born. The graveyard is full of the
names of ancient magical families, and this accounts,
no doubt, for the stories of haunting that have dogged
the little church for many centuries.’
“Wow!” said Albus Dumbledore thinking of Godric’s Hollow.
He longed to see the birthplace of his favorite wizard,
the graveyard, the church.
“Albus…! Look at this!” called a voice from the back garden.
“Come quickly!”
Albus smiled to himself. Ariana, his sister, was 6 years old
and she was showing definite signs of magic. Perhaps,
she had opened a flower without touching the petals or
increased the length of a twig. She would want to show this
to her elder brother, of course. He closed the book and
went out.

Ariana was sitting on the grass in the back garden,
her blonde hair shining in the sun. The cool breeze
blew her hair back revealing her sweet face. She turned
and beckoned Albus.
“What is it, Ariana?” he asked coming over.
“See Albus!” she squealed moving her hand over the
grass. “Look at them twisting,” she prompted.
Albus watched the grass. It grew tall and twisted to
form a heart upon Ariana’s touch. He smiled and patted
her on her head.
“Wonderful,” he told. “Who showed you this?”
“No one,” she answered simply. “I am doing it myself.”
“Good girl,” he said impressed by her magic. She would
make a great witch, he thought
There was a sudden shuffling of leaves. Albus looked up
and saw three boys, running away.
‘Oh dear! Muggles! How much had they seen?’ he wondered.
“Come Ariana, let’s go inside. Aberforth has got a new
chess set. Let us see that,” and he led his sister inside.
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The Dumbledores lived in a cosy little cottage at
Mold-on-the-Wold. It was a small village, a half-magical
dwelling. The environment was pleasant, with trees
and beautiful gardens in the back yards of many houses.
There was a small church at the end of the road, where
the Dumbledores lived. Here and there were small pubs.
The muggles who lived there never really understood why
some people wore funny clothes and talked in hushed
voices, most of the times. They seemed to be a community
of people, who knew each other and did weird and funny
things. They had long since given up cracking this mystery.
It really didn’t matter to them, for these people, though
strange, were friendly and never created any fuss in the village.

One of the renowned families there, was the Dumbledore
family. The wife and husband a charming couple. They had
three beautiful children, two boys and a girl. Both the muggles
and wizards respected the family. Mr. Percival Dumbledore
was the first man anyone would want to go to for advice or
to sort out any problems. It was as if, this was the last family
in the village, which would do anything wrong, or for which
anything can go wrong. But, change is the only permanent
phenomenon on earth. And the Dumbledores’ fate
changed, that very day.

Albus Dumbledore stepped into the back yard that
evening, thinking about Godric’s Hollow. Though, it was
a half-magical dwelling, just as Mold-on-the-Wold and
not a complete wizarding village like Hogsmeade, still
he was fascinated by it. Perhaps, due to it being the
birthplace of Godric Gryffindor. A movement near the
hedge caught his attention. He looked up and saw the
same three muggle boys, who had been spying on them
that morning, running away as though guilty of a crime.
Albus walked over to the hedge. It was parted as though
someone had forced his or her way in through it. Apparently,
the muggles wanted to come in. He didn’t mind them
coming in. However, he wondered, why couldn’t they come
through the front door? Why sneak? Albus found the answer
as he turned to look at the corner of the back yard.

The sight paralyzed him. He stood there petrified, unable
to move, unable to think, unable to do anything. Ariana
was lying on the grass. Her clothes were torn, ripped apart.
Her eyes were closed and there was blood between her legs.
Albus breathed sharply and ran over to her. Her hands and
face were bruised badly, blood coming out from her mouth
and nose too.
“Ariana! Open your eyes! Are you alright?” he asked, sitting
beside her, shaking her. He checked her pulse. It was feeble,
yet she was alive. Then anger replaced fear, for Albus wanted
to punish those muggles, beat them up, for what they did to
his sister. But the thought of Ariana’s safety overpowered it.
He stood up, removed his shirt and covering Ariana in it, he
took her in his arms and went into the house.

*

“Mom! Ariana- Ariana!” he half shouted, half cried.
Kendra Dumbledore sensed the fear in her son’s voice.
She quickly came running from the kitchen.
“What is it, Albus? What has…?”
But she couldn’t complete her sentence. She looked at
the tiny body in Albus’s arms, lying imp and not moving
at all. The mother stood, shocked and petrified as she
looked at her daughter. The sound of Aberforth, who had
come from his room upon Albus’s shouts, brought her back.
“Do something Mom!” screamed Aberforth.
Albus lay Ariana on the floor. Kendra removed her wand
and started muttering softly, tapping Ariana occasionally,whose
head was in her lap. Slowly, she cleaned the wounds. Still,
Ariana was unconscious.

The font-door opened and a man walked into the house.
He had long blond hair and his blue eyes twinkled as he
walked into the hall.
“Where’s my little princess?” he called. “Come to daddy, Ariana.
See what I’ve-“
“Daddy! Look at what has happened to Ariana!” said Aberforth
crying, as he ran to his father.
Percival came in and looked. He stood watching for a long time,
thinking. Finally, he took his wand out and breathed into it. Then
he tapped Ariana’s wounds, her mouth, her nose, between her
legs and she healed. Her skin became clear. He then tapped her
near her heart.

It happened suddenly. Ariana opened her eyes and
closed them. Then she stood up so fast that Kendra fell
over. Her eyes were closed, but she seemed awake. She
lifted her hands up and brought them down like wings.
Then she was bleeding again, long cuts appeared at her
chest, her hands, her legs and blood poured out of them.
But it was not falling anywhere on the floor. It was going
into Percival’s wand as if the wand was siphoning it. Then
the bleeding stopped and Ariana stood still until the wounds
healed. As the last wound healed, she fell on the floor.

“No! Don’t touch her!” told Percival to his wife,
as the mother made a movement to go near her
daughter. “Wait! She might… not yet…” The four
Dumbledores watched. Ariana’s breath was
becoming steady now. Still she was unconscious.
Albus didn’t understand what was happening. Why
are mom and dad not doing anything? Surely, they
were so a great witch and wizard, they could put her
right. He felt sick and revolted as he thought of the
muggles who did this to her. How could one do such
a thing to a little girl? He wanted to hurt them to, cause
pain to them as they had to his sister. But how could he?
He was still not having a wand and he didn’t know many
spells that could hurt them either.

Ariana’s cough brought him back. Her lips
moved slowly.
“Mom- Dad” she whispered and Kendra rushed
to embrace her.
“My poor baby! Everything will be OK dear…,” she told her.
“Albus? Who?” asked Percival suddenly. It was as if he
knew what Albus was thinking, his eyes X-raying him,
for he said, “No, you will not hurt any muggles. You
will not do any such thing.”
Then Percival came over to his eldest son. He put his
hands on his shoulders and said, “Albus, you have to
be brave. You should listen to your mother. Learn what
she teaches. Do not doubt her. Do as she says.”
“What…” began Albus, but Percival raised his hand.
“Do not ask anything son. You will have to trust. You
should not doubt.”
He turned and looked at his wife and other two children.
Aberforth was stroking Ariana’s hair gently. Percival bent
a little and spoke, careful that only Albus should hear.
“You will be going to Godric’s Hollow after a few days. Not
because you can’t live here. But because, you have to.”
Then he was whispering, “Godric’s Hollow is your destiny
Albus. It is your past…your present and your future…”

Albus could understand neither head nor tail of
what his father told him in the past few minutes.
“Kendra, I will be going now.” Percival said, standing
up. “They will come in a few minutes. Remember to keep
her hidden. I don’t want her to be taken to St. Mungo’s.
Do you understand me?”
Albus couldn’t understand what his father was saying.
Who would come in a few minutes? Moreover, why would
Ariana have to go to St. Mungo’s? But Kendra seemed
to have understood it all, for she nodded. Percival kissed
all of them and went to the door. Turning back he said
to no one in particular, “Remember my last.” And he
was gone.

*