The New Lord of Godric Gryffindor

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Series. J.K beat me to it by a decade. And, I know this may shock some of you, but I do not own Hermione Granger. -Sniff-

A/N 1: My view on what Albus's religion is only a guess, and I hope to offend no one.

A/N 2: To make sure that you will always have something to read, I will try to update everyday, so I doubt I will have any very long chapters. Maybe an average of 4K or 5, but probably 3, and no less than 2. There will be many chapters though, and it will b a long story, and seems to progress slowly. Please Read and Review; it's what keeps me going.

Chapter 1

The New Lord

Weather forecasters called it the schizophrenic summer. The citizens of Surrey called it a pain in the arse. The weather that summer had been the most hectic in recent years. Meteorologists were baffled by it; it seemed to defy all of the laws of science, and anything they had learned over the years. Citizens were also annoyed by the increased number of people in Surrey, visiting. Most were visiting scientists, there to document the weather. Paul Kocin from the National Weather Service in the States was there.

The most severe area the storm had affected was the hamlet of Little Whinging. Satellite imagery had shown that every change in the weather centered from there. It was a scientific anomaly. Whenever the temperature started to rise, it started there. Whenever the rain started, it was there. Whenever the temperature sunk, it started there. Whenever it started to snow, it happened there. And there wasn't even a significant body of water to start the precipitation.

Today was the 31^st of July, the 40^th day of the turmoil. And the one person, who did know what was going on, had only just arrived. Most people did not even notice him. They were to busy shoveling out their cars, and driving to work. Occasionally, a small boy or girl would tug on the kind man's coat, and the man would smile and give the child a lemon drop. He would continue on his way, smiling along the way. He wore half moon spectacles, which brilliantly showed off his blue eyes. His white beard hung to his waist, and many teenagers would snicker and call him `Father Time,' or `Rip Van Winkle.' The man did not care, they were naïve, and would learn their lesson in due time.

Walking into Little Whinging, he decided to slow his pace, since the person he was to meet would not wake for a scant few hours. He would look in little shop windows, his crooked nose almost touching the glass. He looked into toy stores at the innocent toddlers, as they clamored to buy a new train set. He looked in candy stores, at a mother buying her son a cake for his birthday. The fact that these people were still leading normal lives greatly joyed the man. Their ignorance of what danger was beyond the looking glass was their jewel. Yes, the man thought, Muggles were a lot simpler than wizards like him.

As he made his way past Main Street, to the quiet streets of suburbia, he started to compare the changes that the area had over gone. Gone were some of the trees that had once dotted the land when he had been a lad. Gone were the Yankee soldiers, which were stationed here when he was at the ripe age of 104. And gone, was the air of jubilation and triumph that he had witnessed 15 years before. Time was a fickle thing, something that was gaining on the man. A man who was now at the old age of 155, soon to be 56 in November.

His eyes still had the same twinkle they always had. His smile still had the same effect on the hearts of his students. Yet, his gait was not the same. It had slowed down, and almost had a limp to it. And his eyesight was only getting worse. Not only was age a fickle thing, it was a debilitating foe, one that slowly picked at your strength and features until it decided you were withered enough, and were whisked away to Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. He figured he would soon meet this mythical figure in due time, as he thought he was long past his time to do. But, maybe He had left him on this earth, to guide his liege until he could do without him.

His liege, his student, his surrogate son. All of these terms applied to the boy, no, young man he had come to meet. To finally fulfill his duty so he could pass on into eternity. No sooner did the thought cross his mind than when he looked up, and saw the street sign he saw 14 years ago, Halloween. The day he had brought his `son' to his relatives. The sign bore no sign of the time that had passed. It was still a grass green, with the white letters Privet Drive clearly standing out against it. Yes. Albus Dumbledore had come to his destination.

**********

A troubled young man lay in his bed, miserable and sore. He was young, hardy, the erosion of time had not yet affected his physical features, but his mentality had seemingly gone through many decades of turmoil truly to only be 16. Tragedy had struck him again only a month before, striking a very critical blow. The person he had considered his father, had died at the hands of another, the minion of the man's mortal enemy.

The man had lost many in his life. He had lost his Godfather, a worthy opponent, and his parents. He had lost everything he held dear, to one who had known nothing of what the man still had. Love, the thing that his Godfather and Parents had given him, was what his enemy had been deprived. It was also what his enemy hated, not out of hate, but envy. His only living relatives made sure to help the enemy, by depriving the boy of everything possible.

“BOY!” yelled the man's uncle. “GET OUT HERE AND DIG OUT MY CAR!”

The boy, now angry at his uncle, started to stomp out of the room.

Albus had started to feel uncomfortable. The temperature had started to rise rapidly, and his thick cloak made him hot. Without a thought, he pulled out a long, thin rod of wood. If you were to look at it closely, you would see intricate carvings of a dragon, which snaked its way down the wood until it reached the ebony handle. It was a truly magnificent wand, the first creation of the current generation of Ollivander. With a simple swish of the wand, the mans cloak material had changed from a thick wool, to a soft and light silk. While looking up, he saw his liege leave his house. Once outside, he looked at his uncle's car, and went back inside. Soon after, his uncle came out, got into the car, and drove off.

Albus thought back on his decision to leave his young `son' here. Sure, he was protected by the blood of his mother, through the blood of her sister. It was the best thing for the boy. Sad to think it, but yes, it was best for him, for without his upbringing, he would not have such a heart. Now, the man would wait, until he could see the boy, and fulfill his duty.

He watched, and he waited.

“FREAK!” screeched his retched aunt.

“Yes Aunt Petunia?”

“I am going out with Duddikins to the Polkiss's for tea, and I want the house THE SAEM AS I LEFT IT!”

Angrily, the young man answered, through gritted teeth. “Yes Aunt Petunia.”

Albus watched as the mans relatives left. Now he could finish up his work, and his life.

The young man lay on the couch, glad to finally have time to relax.

Ding, Dong.

The young man got up, and strode to the door of the house. He twisted the knob, and opened the door.

“Hello, Harry.” Albus looked at his son. He had a small smile on his face. Harry though, went through a myriad of emotion. First, surprise, then relief, and lastly, anger.

“Come here to tell me more secrets, more truths that you have kept from me for all these years?”

“Yes, I have Harry, to finish everything.”

Harry was shocked for a second, and lost his sense of anger.

“What have you come to tell me? And what do you mean `finish everything'?”

“Let's step inside Harry, and take a seat. My bones ache.” Albus took a couple of labored steps, and gracefully fell into an armchair. “Yes, now, I have come to tell you everything, everything you need to know, must know and can know.” Albus looked at the Harry, and the young man nodded, and sat down to listen to his mentor.

“The first thing I must tell you is your real name is not Harry Potter. It is Lord Harry Gryffindor.”

A/N 2: YES HAHAHAHAHA, CLIFFIE!

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