We Fools Who Love

1. We Fools Who Love

Standard Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

«.¸¸.•´¯)~*~We Fools Who Love~*~(¯`•.¸¸.»

by

The Heir of Paravel

dedicated to

The Prophet of the Phoenix

who first conceived the notion of Deeper Magic

“I cared about you too much”, said Dumbledore simply. “I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act.” – Dumbledore to Harry, Chapter Thirty Seven, “The Order of the Phoenix”

The Great Hall was beginning to fill with students, parents, and guests. The four long house tables had been removed. In their places were dozens upon dozens of folding chairs arranged in long rows across the worn stone floor. Overhead, the enchanted ceiling mirrored exactly the sort of clear blue sky and fleecy clouds one might expect to find at Hogwarts on a fine afternoon in early June.

I sat and watched the familiar spectacle unfolding - another graduation ceremony at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How many times had I sat in this chair and marked the passing of yet another year, yet another batch of wizards and witches preparing to make their way in the world? For me, graduation ceremonies had always been a source of great pleasure and pride. The tradition and rituals of this near sacred event had remained unchanged for centuries and, as such, created a sense of continuity that was both comforting and reassuring. In times of darkness, in times of light, the essence of Hogwarts remained, unchanged. Generation after generation of witches and wizards has come to us to learn magic, but they leave having learnt much more. So much more…

My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a dark haired young man, flanked by a remarkably pretty girl with long curling brown hair and a lanky young man with the classic Weasley thatch of red. Harry, Hermione, and Ron. I could hardly believe that the last seven years of Harry’s life had passed so quickly, when the first eleven had practically crawled by.

Looking over steepled fingers at the three of them laughing at something Neville Longbottom had just said, I remembered the torturous years I waited for Harry to return to the wizarding world. Leaving him on the Dursley’s door step had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. No one knew…not even Arabella, how close I had come to raising him myself. How I envied Merlyn his Arthur! But it was not to be. The Dursley’s, with their unending faults and odious nature could give him the one thing I could not. The protection of blood. The only thing Petunia Dursley shared with Harry’s mother was common parents. But that was enough. Enough to protect Harry from Voldemort or his followers in ways even I could not.

So I left him there. I left him on the doorstep of Number Four Privet Drive and that night began the longest vigil of my life. I returned obsessively to watch him. At first, I told myself it was for his protection, but as he grew, I was forced to admit it was because I cared about him, loved him, in fact.

He was the most down-trodden, ill treated little boy you could imagine, but his spirit never failed him. Harry was subjected to no end of indignity, unfair treatment, and outrageous punishment – not just at home, but at school. I closed my eyes, remembering the first time I witnessed an act of unfocused magic on Harry’s part. He was at school being chased by a gang of boys bent on knocking the stuffing out of him. For all his speed (for Harry was indeed fleet of foot) it was obvious that they would soon overtake and corner him. I was on the point of a little subtle intervention, when Harry made it totally unnecessary.

He had run down a small alley behind the school and slid silently among the dustbins. But Dudley, who was leading the gang, had spotted him. Harry had no where to go and no place to hide. Out of pure desperation, Harry leapt at downspout on the side of the building, and missed. Missed it entirely in fact, because what he had done instead of reaching the downspout was apparate to the rooftop where he sat stunned. Equally taken aback and staring up at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief, were his pursuers.

Impressive natural abilities, I remembered thinking.

And I was right. Once my long vigil ended, once he finally reached Hogwarts, he proved to be amazingly gifted in terms of his magical abilities, and simultaneously, in his self-doubt and humility, he proved to be completely endearing. I had watched him for eleven long years, and when he was finally with me, I longed to embrace him, to tell him that the worst was over, that now he could take his rightful place among witches and wizards. But I dared not. I had “known” Harry for nearly a dozen years, but he had not known me. To him, I was a complete stranger. So concerned was I that I would not be able to contain my utter joy at his arrival if I fetched him myself, I sent Hagrid to fetch him.

As Headmaster, I could not befriend Harry as fully as I might have liked for the sake of not risking his academic integrity if for no other reason. I wanted Harry’s triumphs to be his own, untainted by the whispers of “Well, he’s the Headmaster’s Pet…who did you think would win?” or “Of course Potter passed exams with flying colours, he’s Dumbledore’s best boy.” I would not sacrifice Harry’s chances for building self esteem through success in school just because of my own foolish desire to be near him, to counsel him, and to befriend him. Hagrid would have to offer that emotional support instead. Having no particular reputation for influencing teachers or Quidditch referees, Hagrid could offer Harry love and support without compromising any of his achievements in the classroom. It seemed an idea arrangement, but maintaining the distance required an extreme effort of will on my part.

Rarely, very rarely, did I indulge myself. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he opened that Nimbus 2000. He was positively beaming. I thought my heart would burst. What a luxury it must be to be a parent or grandparent - to be able to love openly, to know that smiling cherub face is beaming at you. What I wouldn’t have given to have been able to scoop and cuddle a lisping toddling Harry, to hold a five-year old Harry who’s heart had been broken yet again by a callous Aunt Petunia or Marge, to pat the back of a desperately lonely seven-year old Harry, to grasp in triumph an eleven-year old Harry who had just caught his first snitch, or even to tousle the raven mop (so like his father’s) of Gryffindor’s Head Boy. But I dared not do it.

For seven years, I’d managed to restrain myself. Now, as I watched him from the comfort of what might as well have been a lethifold armchair, I was in torment. Was I about to lose him again? The Harry Potter that sat before me now was a mature, handsome, confident young man. In his fifth year, he had achieved an extraordinary number of O.W.L’s. – surpassed only by Hermione Granger. In his seventh year he had dazzled ministry examiners during his N.E.W.T’s, attaining the highest level of wizarding qualification Hogwarts offered. He was poised to do or become whatever he liked.

The world was his oyster. In possession of both the Potter and Black family fortunes, Harry was among the privileged class who need not work for a living if he so chose. He was the owner of #12 Grimauld Place as well as the deed holder to what remained of Godric’s Hollow. A dozen professional Quidditch teams were trying to recruit him to their ranks, but as of yet, Harry hadn’t committed to any of them. I also knew that Kingsley Shaklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks had, over a round of butterbeer during Harry’s last Hogsmeade visit, pitched to him the idea of entering the Ministry as an auror. Harry had listened intently to their entreaties and gave them what was coming to be is standard response to all proposed plans for his future. “I’ll think about it.”

Frankly, I was a little surprised that he hadn’t immediately committed to becoming an auror. It has been his stated intention ever since his fifth year. It was his hesitancy to enter the Ministry that gave me my first real hope. It was my first real hint that Harry wanted to learn more about Magic than simply the best way to use it in battle. Unnoticed by all but perhaps Hermione Granger, Harry had begun to develop an intriguing spirituality. Although its origins were hazy at best, I thought I could trace it to two things – Sybil Trelawney’s legendary prophecy and the death of Sirius Black.

Both events acted on Harry in strange and remarkable ways. He had been forced to consider mortality in a most intimate manner. He would either have to take a life, or have his own taken from him. He had witnessed his own godfather die in battle, and as he (Harry) reflected on Sirius’s life and what it meant in totality, he began to reflect on his own life. Why was he here anyway? Would he allow his life to be defined by Voldemort? In the depths of his remarkable green eyes, so like his mother’s, I sensed and saw a hunger beginning to grow – a desire to know more about the universe and how we’re all connected. Harry didn’t know it, but he was seeking a deeper magic than what we teach at Hogwarts. We allude to it, but few understand it. Fewer still would dare teach it.

In the weeks before graduation, I made my decision. I would offer Harry an invitation that I had never before extended to anyone. If he chose, Harry could become my first apprentice. He could take up residence at the castle and begin to plumb the depths a magic deeper and more powerful than he had ever known. To my way of thinking, it was Harry’s only true chance at inner-peace and happiness. In unlocking the secrets of this world, in unraveling the mysterious forces of life and love, he might finally come to grips with the horrible events of his past and with the threat that loomed large on his horizon. Beyond these considerations, I had more confidences in my own abilities to prepare Harry for his ultimate conflict with Voldemort than I did those at the Ministry who sought to train him as an auror.

I found myself nervous as I approached Harry with my unusual proposition. Rather than calling him to my office, I had asked him to stroll with me around the lake. It wasn’t until I began to speak that I realized how important the idea of Harry as my apprentice had become to me. To his credit, he listened raptly as we walked, pausing only a few times to ask me questions.

“Professor Dumbledore” Harry began “I want to thank you….to tell you how flattered and stunned I am by your…”

I cut him off, raising a hand. It did not take skill as a legilimens to see that Harry was emotionally unprepared for my offer and that he needed time to think. “Harry, I do not want an answer now. Think it over carefully, talk it over with Ron and Hermione if you like and know that I will not be offended if you decline. Staying on here at Hogwarts for further study may, on the surface, pale in comparison to the glory of professional Quidditch, but I hope you will consider it.”

Harry shook my hand. “Thank you Professor. I will think it over carefully, and give you an answer soon.” He looked me directly in the eye and smiled before turning away, not heading back to the castle, but walking further afield, along the lakeshore. Although I would never use my abilities as a legilimens inappropriately, when Harry had shaken my hand he had unwittingly projected one clear thought to me - “Hermione”. Now his hesitation was clear. He didn’t want to be separated from her.

By the morning of graduation, Harry had not given me an answer, but I had not given up hope. I was hosting a small reception after the ceremonies; the Grangers, the Weasleys, Remus Lupin and a handful of other guests were expected. Harry would be there and perhaps then, we could find a quiet corner in which to talk.

Somewhere a ghostly pipe organ, played by the Fat Friar, wheezed out a few dirge-like chords. The Great Hall fell silent as I rose to address the assembled body who, to a person, seemed to be glowing with happy anticipation. Somewhere, a voice in the back of my head whispered quietly… “What a receptive looking crowd, Albus...now’s your chance…go on…I DARE YOU.” After casting a quick sidelong glance at Minerva McGonnagal, I took a deep breath, thinking that today of all days, I might get away with it. Clearing my throat, I began, “Once, a hag, a troll, and a goblin went into a bar…”

When at last the ceremonies were safely over, all the parents and students thoroughly congratulated, I slipped quietly to the small reception chamber off the Great Hall where I hoped to find the Headmaster’s Reception in full swing. Having been careful to include Fred and George Weasley among the guests, I felt sure that a good time would soon be had by all. I arrived, as is so often my custom, without fanfare and was able to linger in the doorway, watching the faces of the people I held dear.

“I’d sooner kiss a hippogriff or even,” Ron seemed to be struggling to think of something truly distasteful “kiss Filch than eat that!” he exclaimed, backing away from a suspicious looking treat being offered him by his older brother Fred.

Neville Longbottom was shaking his head and backing away in a similar fashion from George, gasping “I’d rather have a lunch date with Snape than touch whatever that…that thing is in your hand.” George shrugged and popped the treat into his own mouth as Neville scuttled away - retreating to the side of his rather imposing grandmother with her now legendary vulture-topped hat.

Dobby the house-elf had sidled up to Harry, who was deep in conversation with Remus Lupin, and tugged at his robes.

“Dobby!” Harry exclaimed, always delighted to see the faithful house-elf so long as he wasn’t on some sort of misguided rescue mission -bent on saving lives through the highly unorthodox method of inflicting near mortal injuries on those he was trying to save.

“Dobby has a present for Harry Potter, sir” he said, his enormous eyes goggling up at Harry. Harry stooped to receive an ornately carved wooden box with a bright brass latch.

“Thank you, Dobby” Harry said, fumbling with the catch, but unable to lift the lid.

“Alohomora” Hermione said, easing quietly to her natural place at Harry’s side. He grinned at her, remembering her use of that particular charm years earlier. (Yes, I was there and no, I wouldn’t have let Fluffy eat them.)

The latch clicked open softly to reveal Dobby’s trademark gift – handmade, deliberately mismatched socks. In the years he had been knitting socks for Harry, Dobby had made great strides. These were finely done. The right one was burgundy and covered with Gryffindor lions that actually roared. The left one was gold and covered with tiny Firebolts that zoomed distractingly around the ankle. I found myself wondering if Dobby could make me a wool set before winter. One could never have too many pairs of socks.

“Thank you Dobby!” Harry laughed, holding up the socks for all to see. Molly Weasley, who was undeniably skilled with knitting needles herself, came to have a closer look.

“Oooh Harry” she breathed, “those are lovely, they’ll be perfect for you while you’re…I mean when you’re…what is it you’re going to do again dear?”

“Subtle, Mum” Ginny muttered.

“Now, Molly dear,” Arthur tutted, coming to stand behind her with a reproving smile. “I’m sure Harry will keep us fully informed as to his movements”. As Arthur led Molly away, he mouthed over his shoulder at Harry, “The Ministry, right?” Harry pretended not to understand.

I cleared my throat.

“Professor Dumbledore” Harry said warmly, clearly relieved that at least for the time being, attention would be focused on me and not him.

The late afternoon merged seamlessly into early evening. My guests, replete with food and drink had splintered into small groups to chat quietly among themselves. Still, I had had no word from Harry. He had been deep in conversation with Ron, but found himself alone as Ron’s mother called him away to clarify some point in the re-telling of some antics of Fred and George.

Easing away from the Grangers, I made eye contact with Harry and he nodded - seeming to understand what I was about to ask him. To my complete and utter amazement, Harry called for everyone’s attention.

“Excuse me?” he asked loudly, his cheeks flushing slightly, but with a look of determination in the twin emeralds that were his eyes. “If I could…um…if I could have everyone’s attention please?” All eyes were fixed on Harry who came to stand beside me.

“I wanted to thank all of you…each of you” he stammered “for bringing me back to the wizarding world.” Hagrid blew his nose into a tablecloth-sized handkerchief. Harry continued “and for giving me the best seven years of my life here at Hogwarts. I could have never made it without you.” He swallowed hard, looking from Ron to Hermione. “You have been my friends, my teachers, but more importantly, you have been my family. Through you, I have come to know and love the family I lost years ago.” Molly Weasley was weeping openly now, but Harry had steeled himself for this and plunged ahead. “As my family, you have a right to know what my plans are - what I intend to do now that I am a fully qualified wizard.”

You could have heard a pin drop. The room held its collective breath.

“As you know, I could play Quidditch professionally.” Ron gave Harry a big “thumbs-up”. “I have also had offers to join an up and coming Diagon Alley-based business as their Lead Spokeswizard,” Fred and George Weasley flashed identical grins, “but somehow, I don’t fancy the idea of the Boy-Who-Lived becoming the Boy-Who-Pitches Skiving Snack Boxes. Sorry Fred and George.” The sighed resignedly. Harry turned his attention to Remus Lupin and Arthur Weasley. “I could enter the Ministry of Magic and train to become an auror. It’s what I always said I would do.” Minerva McGonagall’s mouth twitched slightly at the corners, remembering the day Harry first made his hopes known – how Dolores Umbridge had sworn it would never happen. Perhaps remembering the same instance, Harry continued, a little hesitantly. “I have given this a great deal of thought, in fact, I’ve thought of nothing else for weeks. Voldemort is still out there somewhere,” the room gave a collective shudder at the mention of his name, “more powerful and more determined than ever. For years, highly trained witches and wizards have tried in vain to defeat him – have given their lives to prevent the spread of his particular evil, but all our traditional methods for fighting the dark arts have only served to distract him and slow him down, not to end his reign of terror. There must be another way, an alternative means of preserving and protecting the lives we’ve struggled to build since his downfall eighteen years ago. There must be a deeper, more elemental magic upon which we must now draw. I intend to commit myself to the study of that energy - that power, and I will learn it from the only person Voldemort ever feared.

Harry turned to face me. “If your offer still stands Professor Dumbledore, I would be honoured to become your apprentice.”

My ears were filled with an odd ringing as the room erupted around us. Without thinking, I held my arms open wide and Harry sailed into them, gripping me tightly, burying his face in my robes. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. I had longed for this moment - lived for the day when I could finally, fully embrace the young man who had come to mean more to me than life itself. My tears flowed unchecked. And then, wonder of all wonders, I felt Harry, patting me reassuringly on the back. The boy, who I had sought to comfort for years, was now comforting me. It was nearly too much to bear.

Straightening, I turned to face a roomful of people who were nearly speechless with joy. I was still gripping Harry fiercely by the shoulder – not anxious to break the contact that had been so long in coming. “I am fortunate among wizards to have reached the age in life when I can now pass along my questionable knowledge to a dutiful apprentice. To have such a person as Harry in that role is a blessing, a blessing that could only be surpassed by having not only Harry, but Hermione as well.” I felt my eyes beginning to twinkle and glanced at Harry. He was thunderstruck. Hermione Granger had kept her word to me and not told him. I knew that day by the lakeside that if Harry knew she was staying, he would stay as well, but would he have stayed for the right reasons? I had to be sure, so I swore her to secrecy.

Hermione emerged from the crowd, her eyes bright with tears, her hands over her mouth. The look on Harry’s face sent her flying into his arms. They positively beamed at each other. Nearby, Ron shook his head knowingly and raised a glass. “To Harry and Hermione!”

As the simple salute echoed around the room, I had the unmistakable image of a day much like this one - a warm June evening, a blushing bride, a charming groom, and a knowing best man. A shadow of things to come, perhaps? Possibly.

For now, it was enough that they had found each other, that they would be together with me and that we loved each other. Yes, “we”, for now there could be no doubt that Harry (and Hermione) had come to love and trust me as I did them. It would be through that bond and that bond alone, that together we would unlock the doors to the deeper magic living within us all. But that is another story.

If you’ll excuse me, Peeves has just done something most unfortunate to Mrs. Norris that requires my immediate attention. I shall return shortly. In the meantime, have a lemon drop.

~*~ Finis ~*~