The Pale Rider

Chapter Six:

Trust one that has gone through it. Virgil

Hermione opened her eyes slowly to find the room around her shrouded in darkness. She was in a hospital bed, but they were nowhere near the hospital. She tried to get up, but weariness surrounded her as she flopped back onto the bed.

“Hello Hermione,” Harry said, stepping out of the darkness that eclipsed her bed.

“Harry?” she mumbled as he took a step closer. “What…what happened?” “Its best that you remain calm Hermione,” Harry said, looking at her for a moment. He waved his hand, a chair appearing behind him. “I think its time we come clean with each other.” He straddled the chair as he spun it around, and leaned over the back of it to stare at her. “There is much you and I have to talk about.”

“Where am I?” She said, shaking her head as she broke his gaze.

“Well, lets say you are safe, the one place you thought no one could ever touch,” Harry said, looking around the “room.” The place was still black as night, but before them a wall appeared. “A place that you hide everything from everyone, including yourself at times.” She looked at him for a moment before looking at the wall again.

“We're in my mind?” she said in awe. She gripped the sheets a little tighter as she turned back to Harry. He nodded before speaking again.

“Not by choice, but it had to be done,” Harry said looking back at the wall. “We can come back to that at a later time; though I do believe that you have a question for me.”

“I thought you weren't going to answer me until I answer yours,” Hermione said, thinking back to their conversation.

“I've giving you a chance to let that slide for now, Hermione, however, I do want an answer, despite it being what I suspect it being,” Harry said with a smirk and twinkle in his eyes.

“You figured it out?” she said. Her voice as shocked, but she could not help but laugh. “Of course you didn't. You just know it's not what you thought it was.” He nodded, before smiling. She returned it, happy to see him smile once again, even if it was a small one.

“I've waited a long time Hermione to return, a few more weeks is nothing to me,” he said with sincerity.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, sitting up all the way. She let the sheet fall around her waist, noticing the nightgown she wore. She let out a breath of relief, as she had been worried about wearing nothing and this all being a hoax.

“A wise man once told me the best place to start was at the beginning,” Harry said. “I believe that for me to start would be the day I left, one year ago.”

IOI

The moment he Apparated away, Harry knew there was no turning back. He could have stopped himself at any moment up to then. He walked casually cross the grounds of the place he had called home for more than six years. A home like any other. To him, it was the only place he had thought of returning to when the war was over. Now, though he realized the war may never truly be over. Never truly end.

“Why?” he said softly. He had moved toward the grave that held the body of his beloved Headmaster. The man he had followed into hell and back, all for not. “Why doesn't this make sense anymore?” He looked up at the sky. “WHY!?!”

The only response was thunder, rolling cross the evening sky as the world opened up to mourn. Harry felt himself open up as well, in what he could only describe as a deluge of pain, of trial, and of despair. His cries, if he would've looked up, rocked the earth below him, and sky drenched him in his own tears as he cried. As quickly as the storm came, however, it passed. He rose off the muddy ground, not carrying to wipe the mud or dirt from his knees. With a look toward the tomb, making a promise to return, he headed toward the castle.

The walk was painful almost. Not in the sense of physical, but mental, he felt that each step was but another step closer to the one thing he could not envision seeing ever again. He never meant to return; he never meant for a lot of things to happen in face. A lot of what he was planning was unconventional, and he did not need another soul knowing about.

The castle recognized him almost immediately. He could feel it as the wave of magic washed over him. He shivered in fear, or possible hate, as he realized that was he was looking for, could not be found here, or at least immediately.

As he headed toward the Headmaster's office, he only paused for a moment. A moment much like that of awe. He passed the Great Hall, and stopped the emptiness of it all, and the stillness that even in a world of magic could exude. Only his breathe of evidence that he was there, and that too was gone with the wind.

“Lemon Drop,” Harry said, standing before the office. Slowly, the stairwell appeared, as if drained of life as he seemed.

“Harry, I'm surprised to see you here,” Professor McGonagall said. She appeared to be cleaning the remainder of Dumbledore's personal effects out of the office. A room that had once been so full of life now seemed nothing but empty. All except a lone parchment on the desk. “I must leave for a bit, but there are some things we need to discuss, Harry.”

“I'll be here waiting Professor.” Harry said, nodding.

“That letter was left to you from Albus, he wanted you to read it,” she said as she reached the door. Harry nodded, wondering where she was going off to. The thought quickly passed as she left.

He walked across the room, and picked up the parchment, taking care to read it. He was not shocked to see it was addressed to him, but rather by what it said.

Harry,

If you are reading this, than no doubt that I have moved onto the next great adventure. Or rather, I am taking a slight nap. I'm going to apologize in advance for what may happen to you, I am rightly sure to be honest. A charm I placed on myself must have backfired, because I seem to have forgotten something that I should have told you. No matter, though I dare say that we still have much work to be done.

If my sources are correct, than you are here alone, without either Ms Granger or Mr. Weasley. All the better if they were because they would soon come to quite a predicament. No matter, once you finish reading this, I suspect an artifact of mine, an urn perhaps, I'm not positive, I hide it a long time ago.

There is much we failed to discuss, though I fear that my rest will not be for long. The journey for you, however will be. I pray we do not see each other soon, for then, either one of us has failed, if not both.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore.

Harry stared at the letter, trying to decipher the meaning of it. He looked up at the desk and had to smirk. There upon it sat an urn of sorts, with runes drawn around it. Dumbledore always had to be right, even in death. He shook his head as he touched the urn lightly, running his finger along a rune.

He felt a slight tug, knowing what it meant as the portkey whisked him away. He opened his eyes, letting shock over come him.

Walls upon walls stood before him of books and artifacts that exuded magical energy. His gaze turned into a scowl as he looked across the room.

“It appears that you do not like the artifacts that the Master of the House has collected,” a voice said. Harry turned, his fist raised in anticipation of a fight, only to find a small house elf, in a butler's uniform. “Follow me please. Travel accommodations have been made for you.”

“Who….who are you?” Harry managed to get out. The shock had passed, but he still did not quite understand what the house elf had to do with Dumbledore.

“My name is of little concern at the moment, because I fear that you are late,” the elf said, turning to look at Harry. “I thought you would have been taller in person.”

“We don't always know what we think,” Harry responded as they continued along the path ahead of them.

“that it may be,” the elf said, stopping at a door in the center of a long hallway. Or at least it looked like a long hallway, as Harry could not see the end. “You wish for anonymity, the Master of the House thought of this, and prepared a few things for your journey.”

The door opened to a small room, with a backpack and a map on a desk. With the urn still in his hand, Harry entered, to find the door close behind him. He did not question the elf, because somehow, he would find some sense of direction here.

He had lost that somewhere along the way. His only decision was to leave, to find his way again. Lifting the map, he examined it carefully, looking over the places marked across Europe. There was another note on the map, written in Albus's hand writing.

Harry, if you reading this, finish this journey for me, as I can't at the moment.

Picking up the map, he folded it carefully and placed it into his pocket, knowing he'd honor this task for his mentor, before heading out on his own journey.

IOI

“Its funny how you set off on one path, Hermione,” Harry said, breaking away from the memory that she had been watching unfold. It was not unlike a Pensive, one that she had found in Dumbledore's office and been allowed to watch.

“Where did you go?” Hermione asked him. He shrugged his shoulders.

“You wouldn't believe it, but all I was doing was picking up a few things for Dumbledore,” Harry said with a laugh. “It was the most fun I think I had in a while though, showed me things I had forgotten. “

“He had you going on errands?” Hermione asked. Harry nodded, laughing again.

“Yeah, picked a book in Berlin, a wine glass in Rome, some cheese in Paris, and a razor blade in Spain,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders. “There's more to that, but it's his story to tell I guess.”

“Will you go on?” Hermione asked, “I mean, when did things turn south?” He gave her a smirk.

“About the time I finished the gunblade,” Harry said, “Those so called errands helped me get the information to finish this puzzle of a weapon. It was difficult, and I kept losing time, not being able to work as fast as I could. I remembered an artifact that Dumbledore had in that room. The map worked as a portkey, so I was able to get back to the room, however from there, things began to go down hill.”

“What was it Harry?”

“Well Hermione, you know what to use when you need more time,” Harry said with a smirk that was unlike the man Harry probably respected the most in the world.

“A Time Turner?” The surprise was etched across her face as she nodded.

“At first, it was only a few days, but then, I screwed up,” Harry said with a sheepish grin.

“What do you mean you screwed up? Did you try to change the past?” Hermione asked, very worried.

“No,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I kinda broke the Turner.”

“WHAT?” Hermione said, nearly jumping up from the bed. “How could you do something so stupid and foolish?” He waited for her to calm down before he spoke again.

“I was already told out by Dumbledore, before he knew who I was, so thank you very much,” Harry said with a sad smile. He felt the pain crawl across his heart as he remembered everything the last few decades had brought to him.

“How far did you go back in time?” Hermione asked once a moment of silence had passed.

“A little over fifty years, 1945, I believe,” Harry said, not meeting her eyes for the first time since he entered her mind. Which when he thought about it was something to laugh at if he had the time.

“How did you manage not to effect the world around you?” Hermione asked him.

“I guess, I just had to believe that what I had done had already happened, so I could not change it, as much as I wanted to,” Harry said. “I mean, how could I go through life, paranoid at every little thing I did. There was little I could.”

“Can you tell me about?” Hermione asked, leaning closer to him, as he talked. Her elbows were on her knees now as he spoke.

“I guess, but really, the beginning is the important part.”

IOI

“Damn,” Harry said, staring at the castle before him. It had just gone through a battle, and by the newspaper at his feet, he knew he was in deep. Fifty years, fifty years back in time, to right after Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald.

He picked up the paper, reading it slightly before moving toward the doorway. No one would recognize him here, no one would know who he was. For that much he was thankful, now he just had to find out an excuse to see the Professor. He was still the transfiguration teacher here, or at least should be. Harry was not quite sure about this little part of Dumbledore's history. With a sigh, he conjured himself a black trench coat and threw it around his shoulders as he entered through entrance doors to the castle.

The students noticed his state of dress, and how different it was compared to them. The uniforms had not changed much in fifty years, Harry noticed, however, he was not in Hogwarts uniform. He put his hands in his pocket as he continued to the Transfiguration room, the same one he hoped that Dumbledore taught in.

“Well, who may you be?” Harry stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the Head Boy. He was of no one that Harry thought he would come into contact with, but knew better than to tell the truth about him to anyone beyond Dumbledore.

“If I told you, you wouldn't believe me,” Harry said with a smirk before continuing forward.

“What business do you have in Hogwarts?” the boy asked again. Harry turned to look at him for a moment, considering answering the question. He needed to know where Dumbledore was, and the Head Boy might know.

“I am here to ask a favor of Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said with a smirk. “Because in fact, he will owe me a few in the coming future.” Although he did not hear it, he felt the presence of the Professor come up behind him. It was the first time he had done so, and surprised himself at the knowledge.

“Really?” a voice that Harry knew all to well. Harry turned and smirked at the Headmaster. “How can I owe a favor to man I don't even know?”

“Why you wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Harry said with a smirk. “You care me to show me to your office, I'd like to speak there as there are things that the walls can't hear just yet.” Dumbledore eyed him, but it was not suspiciously, however with curiosity. It was a huge risk talking to the man, but he needed to make contact as he had nothing here, and contact with the soon to be Headmaster was his best bet, for now at least.

“Follow me,” Dumbledore said. “And I believe that you've yet to introduce yourself to me.”

“I'll think of a name when we get where we're going,” Harry said with a smirk, to one that Dumbledore could only return. He knew the conversation was going to be difficult to get through, but still. To see his Headmaster once more, brought hope to the hopeless, and he might have an idea what to do. Maybe, just maybe, the younger Dumbledore might be able to aid him where the elder couldn't.