RETURN TO SENDER
Standard Disclaimer: Don't own nuthin' except this 'puter and the car ... and the bank disputes that!
Just a brief note: For those who follow muggledad's "The Last Casualties" (which was posted today) and chemprof, whose latest opus "Seriously, Sirius?" was posted last Sunday ... I was using the same line in early drafts. Must mean that great minds think alike. :-) I think.
Without further ado ...
Chapter Five. Second Chances?
Albus Dumbledore was concerned.
He'd expected his announcement to be met with cheers, commendations, backslaps and handshakes - not the looks of sheer incredulity from the people around him.
It was Xena who broke the silence: "May I ask, Bumbledork, what makes you think you are going back?"
It was his turn to sport a look of sheer disbelief and he blurted, "Surely you're joking …"
"I'm certainly NOT joking, Fumbledore - and DON'T CALL ME SHIRLEY!"
He raised an eyebrow as he asked, "And you are?"
He cringed the moment the words escaped his lips, something Gabrielle said earlier giving him a mental punch to the gut as a visibly enraged woman gritted out, "Xena of Amphipholis, Gabrielle's partner and life-mate - currently Destiny Repair's Director of Operations.
"And I ask again - WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING BACK?"
Dumbledore fought for control. The none-too-subtle emphasis on the word 'partner' established the pecking order here - it would be too risky to his plans to antagonize her. She may be under the small blonde - he shuddered at that image - but her title gave her wide influence in any decisions.
He opted for a tactical retreat. Bowing, he said, "Of course. My apologies."
"Cut the bull-"
He watched with keen interest as Gabrielle stopped the taller woman's rant with a simple gesture. 'Interesting,' he thought. 'She may be a power here but the final decision rests with Gabrielle … this should be easy.'
He glanced towards the tunnel and its scenes of destruction before turning back to face the two women, struck by the disparity in their heights and features but deciding to focus on the smaller but arguably more authoritative blonde.
"There is a prophecy which states that young Harry will be the one to defeat Voldemort. Given that I last saw him in HADES, it would seem that he failed … apparently because I was unable to anticipate all contingencies particularly the untimely demise of Miss Granger, who I'd given a task obviously beyond her."
He sighed dramatically. "It is my mission to prepare Harry for his destiny. It is a burden I have shouldered since before his birth when the prophecy was given to me. It is my intent to ensure that young Harry is properly guided, that he be provided with the tools he needs to complete his mission.
"As such I, Albus Dumbledore, am the best and most obvious person to go back and set things right."
He gave his audience a slightly embarrassed smile. "You mentioned that this … 'entity' is named Destiny Repair but formerly carried the title of Second Chances?"
At Gabrielle's nod, he continued, "Isn't that what I am being granted? A second chance to fix or mend young Harry's destiny? I am prepared for the challenge … I am ready for the burden.
"Shall we get on with it then?"
He gave them a beatific smile, ignoring the bemused look that everyone was giving him. As he looked around, his mind was assaulted by memories long forgotten or, more accurately, long buried - something that he'd 'lifted' from a muggleborn's mind decades ago.
Something about a tunnel … and time travel … the muggleborn had been laughing his head off (which was why he'd taken notice in the first place), loudly comparing the imagination and creativity of the muggles to the straightforward approach that the magical world took …
"Un-be-live-able."
The drawn-out word snapped Dumbledore out of his musing. As expected, it was Xena the She-Devil who'd spoken, "I haven't seen that much horse shit since Hercules asked me to help him clean the stables …"
Turning to Dumbledore, she continued, "You haven't answered Gabrielle's question, old man. The one where she asked whether you're certifiably insane, institutionally senile or simply too full of yourself to realize that you've got your head so far up your arse that it's a wonder you could breath."
She ignored his angry glare and addressed her partner: "It's your call, Gabrielle - I have better things to do."
With that, she joined the others at the desks with the blinking lights, engaging them in conversation which soon enough seemed to become a technical discussion about the blinking lights, levers and buttons. Dumbledore frowned as the tunnel's frame shimmered before the scene of destruction where it stopped began rewinding …
With a silent huff, Dumbledore turned to the young blond who was studying him with a still-bemused expression. Before he could say a word, she spoke. "What my partner is asking, Mr Dumbledore, is WHY should we send you back when you all but admitted that it's YOU who caused the problem in the first place?"
She held up his hand, stopping his protest. "Please, Mr Dumbledore - don't take us for fools. You've been orchestrating events all this time - the wonder of it all is that no one seems to have caught on to you before!"
She stopped and shook her head. "No," she said, "it isn't that no one has caught on to you. The truth is that the previous management - the people running Second Chances - bought into your grand plan of turning a young man with no real discernible talents or skills, save for an amazing amount of courage and determination, into an icon for your world!"
"They probably were getting off on using Harry Potter as Fate's bitch," Xena commented from where she sat. She looked up and saw the glare Gabrielle sent her way and she quickly turned back to her task as she apologized, "Sorry, love, just reviewing the files …"
Gabrielle nodded before turning back to the fuming Dumbledore. "Let's face facts, Mr Dumbledore. You've been orchestrating events from the beginning - from the day you left a baby on the Dursley's doorstep, ignoring the protests of your Deputy who told you that they were - what was it she said? - 'the worst sort of muggles that she'd seen' -"
"She didn't say that!" Dumbledore protested heatedly. "What she said was that they were not like us … and in the end she acceded to my views. She saw my point - that it was best that Harry grow up away from his fame, where it would go to his head -"
"And you did such a great job of it, didn't you?" There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Gabrielle's voice. "You kept him away from the fame - but the moment he steps back into your world, he's mobbed by people who knows who he is, learns that his name is in books for something that he doesn't even remember - and later on told that he is the only one who can defeat a homicidal maniac who's killed more people than he has socks, who's been using magic and the blackest of arts for longer than he has been ALIVE and then, to cap it all, you give him a MISSION that he hasn't been TRAINED FOR while telling him he cannot trust anyone but his SCHOOLMATES - against KILLERS and TORTURERS who've been doing it for longer than they've been ALIVE …
"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"
"It was for the Greater Good -" he mumbled - and found himself stepping back from the incandescent rage of an angry blond as she roared, "YOU WOULDN'T KNOW THE GREATER GOOD IF IT BIT YOU ON YOUR BONY ARSE, OLD MAN!"
She turned to the tunnel's 'screen' which had reverted to the earlier scenes of the utter destruction of the magical world - Hogwarts, now a pile of rubble suspiciously like the false image created by the muggle-repelling wards; the Ministry of Magic, now nothing more than a hole in the ground in the middle of London; Diagon Alley, still burning as teams of men went from body to body, systematically checking for signs of life - and shooting each one in the head to make sure; St Mungo's, another hole in the ground …
"IS THAT YOUR 'GREATER GOOD', OLD MAN? Magical Britain decimated, sixty thousand magical men, women and children dead - far too many of them before their time - a hundred thousand non-magicals killed before the Government realized who was doing it … and all because Albus Bloody Dumbledore thought that it was all for THE GREATER GOOD!"
Dumbledore flinched at the sheer purity of the vitriol thrown his way - but stood steadfast against the abuse. There was nothing he could do - there was no escaping the truth in Gabrielle's words. He had failed - there was no one else to blame. It had been his plan from the beginning and he had been the composer and conductor of the greatest tragedy since Wagner created the Nibelungeid.
"And you have the NERVE to say that you DESERVE the chance to go back and FIX THINGS? I'm of a mind to have you replace Charon - maybe taking souls across the Styx for the next thousand YEARS will be enough to teach you what the 'greater good' really means!"
It was too much for Dumbledore - Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, Headmaster, Order of Merlin First Class, Defeater of Gridelwald and Voldemort … He turned away from those angry, accusing eyes as he tried to control himself.
Why pin the blame on HIM when it was GRANGER's FAULT? All right - maybe it was SNAPE's fault. He'd given the man a simple task - but he failed, and Granger was killed … which removed the Golden Trio's brains, which was what led directly to this fiasco!
He wasn't asking for too much, was he? All he needed was to go back to a time when he could make the necessary changes in his will … make sure that the Tales would go to someone more worthy and less reckless than Granger …
He glanced at the blonde who kept staring at him with accusing eyes and dismissed his earlier thought of trying to convince her to let him go. He glanced at Xena and saw that she was still focused on her console - a glance at the tunnel and he paused.
It was now focused on a 'normal' house in a 'normal' neighbourhood - a house and a neighbourhood he'd last visited a year ago, when he'd asked for Harry's help in bringing Slughorn back to the castle. It was the point where things started falling apart - when he'd decided to tell Harry everything he'd learned of the horcruxes, when he'd started putting his affairs in order - and formulated his ultimate plan, the plan derailed when he trusted Granger with the book …
He knew what he had to do.
He took a deep breath. The rush of pure, clean air into his lungs energized and cleared his head …
They were wrong. They didn't understand - how could they understand? They didn't have his decades of experience. They didn't have his years of fighting for the greater good on so many fronts. Who did they think they were to make pronouncements on his decisions when they haven't even gone through half of what he went through?
Who were they to question him?
They wouldn't listen anyway.
All he needed was a chance to set things right … and He MOVED.
Grabbing Gabrielle by the shoulders, he spun her around and pushed her into her Amazon guards, grinning ferally as he watched them falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs
With a speed that belied his advanced age, he was sprinting for the mouth of the tunnel and he took a running leap - found himself caught in mid-leap before he was flying again - but this time, he wasn't surprised at the sensation of being pushed through a thin narrow tube, hurtling at unbelievable speeds towards his destiny …
Albus Dumbledore had left the building.
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