Tuesday, November 18
Albus apparated at the edge of Hogsmeade, still hidden beneath the heavy disillusionment charm he applied before leaving Little Hangleton.
Another day, another disappointment.
Albus pondered his current predicament as he enjoyed the cool night air and slowly made his way to his brother's pub.
It was obvious that the Gaunt Shack bore signs of heavy, clinging, thick, dark magic having been there before. It had been the first thing Albus noticed when he appeared there on an earlier investigation. The magic was still there when Albus returned this evening, prepared to clear it away and enter the shack, but it had already been partially cleared.
Whoever did it, did not have the skill or strength to remove the magic altogether, but they were clever enough to burrow out a clear path, an entrance, so to speak, allowing them safe entry to the shack.
The empty shack.
And now Albus was left with a curious question...
Had the shack always been empty, had Tom removed the horcrux Albus believed it once housed, or... most disturbingly... had someone already began the quest that Albus was now on?
"You look tired," Abe grunted as he slid Albus a bottle of the nonalcoholic lager he pretended he didn't stock solely for Albus.
"I am," Albus admitted softly. He spun the bottle in his hands and let out a quiet chuckle when he saw Abe's tip jar. "And you look as if business has never been better."
Abe peered at his brother with the same squinting look of distrust he's aimed his way for the last sixty years. "Been decent," he admitted. He grabbed his dishcloth and began wiping down the already clean glasses in front of him, a nervous tendency to fidget with nearby objects when he's nervous that he's always had.
There had been a day when Albus could look at his brother and ask him very firmly if he had been coloring in his books, and Abe would stare up defiantly at him and say no.
Then he would twist the hem of his blouse in his hands and Albus would go crying to their mother.
"Minerva will come down on you if she discovers you're selling liquor to students," Albus warned him lightly, a small smile lifting his lips despite his rather morose mood. "You remember what she did last time."
Abe's eyes ticked towards the hole in his ceiling, the one that had to be danced around if you rented the room above it, and the one that Albus was certain only remained because Abe had been begrudgingly impressed with Minerva's fiery temper and protective nature for the children.
"Maybe you should keep a better handle on your students then," Abe said. "It's not my fault if they come in here looking for a drink and a place to chat."
Albus took a long drink and thought of the recent students of Hogwarts. The muggleborns too scared to return, the students who had recently lost a parent or other loved one, a young set of sisters who he had to inform that their brother had been killed by Greyback. He thought of the ones who had been injured recently and had their memories erased, and he thought of the student who had an invisible axe hanging over his neck.
All the supervision in the world couldn't save these children from the horrors of a war he had hoped they would never have to face.
"Maybe we should," Albus agreed softly. He pushed his half empty drink and a handful of coins across the counter and gave his brother a rueful smile. "Goodnight, Abe."
Abeforth didn't respond, he just nodded his head and watched his brother with thoughtful and worried eyes as he slowly left the pub, just as despondently as he had entered it.
Albus watched the castle become larger and larger as he approached it. The full moon lighting behind the castle made him as nostalgic as did the couples he could hear giggling on the grounds. He remained disillusioned, loathe as he was to ruin the youthful dalliances that were so rare for so many of his students. It truly broke his heart, as he considered the worries and the weights that so many of these children carried.
The children who have already lost loved ones in both wars, such as the Weasley's. They lost a lively duo in their uncles, the Prewett Twins, in the first war against Tom and recently lost a good man in the current war.
The children who lost a family member for the first time in this war. Young Mark Montgomery, only five years old and stolen away one night and torn apart by Greyback and left on the steps of his parents home. Albus had to blink away his own heavy tears as Anna and Marie Montgomery sobbed in their fathers arms when he came to Hogwarts to tell them.
The children who had parents supporting Tom, despite their children's beliefs, such as young Draco. Draco had chosen to not follow his fathers footsteps, a difficult and admiral choice to make, and yet he was punished by disinheritment from a man Albus was sure Draco loved dearly.
There were also children who did choose to follow their parents dark footsteps, as Vincent and Gregory had chosen to do. It was cruel of Tom to mark children so young, scar them for life, yet it was not a new tactic of his. Albus only had to think of Severus to recall the many students in the first war against Tom who had once proudly brandished his mark.
Severus.
Albus sighed heavily as he cast a wistful look towards the dungeon entrance before turning towards the staircase to his own office and sleeping quarters.
There used to be a day when Albus and Severus had been as close as Albus was with Minerva. Severus used to put on a big show of impatience when Albus requested he join him for tea, but then he would shoot unsubtle looks towards the chessboard until they would inevitably spend a few hours playing and chatting about a wide variety of topics easily.
But that had been years ago now.
Severus saw the side of Albus that Albus hated for others to see, and Severus despised him for it nearly as badly as Albus despised himself.
The side of Albus where he was unable to separate the past and the future from the present.
Albus had played his cards a little too quickly, a little too harshly, with a young Mister Potter, and in doing so he lost the respect of Severus forever. Although, Albus wasn't sure when he looked back on his interactions with Mister Potter if he would have made different decisions or not.
Certainly little Harry with his ratty clothes, his poor manner of speech, and his fierce joy at being 'special' had sounded eerily enough to a young Tom that it had given Albus his first inkling of a connection between the two beyond their single interaction.
And Albus had known when he saw Severus' memory of the boy, that whatever darkness had lingered in the shadows of Tom's eyes, lingered within Harry's as well. So he spoke too freely in his shock, and consequently lost a much beloved friend.
Albus had been uneasy around young Harry, but the boy had seemed relatively harmless at first. He cried for his parents in front of the Mirror of Erised, he saved a fellow student from a troll attack, and he faced down Tom's wraith within Quirinus as he tried to protect the stone and prevent Tom from returning. So Albus had breathed a little easier around him.
Then the Chamber of Secrets had reopened and children who had run-ins with Harry were soon found petrified within the halls. And then Albus made his first true and irrevocable mistake with Potter; he expelled the boy. He heard Minerva tell him Miss Granger could alibi Harry for one of the attacks, and he heard Severus' passionately loyal shouts that Harry had been in no way responsible for the attacks, but Minerva and Severus didnt walk past the girls restroom that Myrtle Warren haunted every day, pausing to listen to her wails of misery, as penance for his inactions once before.
Albus had a gut instinct that it had been the brilliant and charming Tom Riddle who opened the chamber during his school years, but he chose to not act and Miss Warren died before she ever truly got to live. So when he saw the publicly brilliant and charming, and privately cruel and vicious, Harry Potter flaunting the same link to Salazar that Tom had, Albus reacted in a knee jerk instinct to save the lives of every other student within the castle.
He had been wrong.
But how could he have known that at the time?
It was inexcusable, yet was it so truly unforgivable?
It had hurt Albus to expel the boy, return him to his mother's family, but not as much as it had hurt the boy himself. When Albus sent him away, Harry had been on a precipitous edge of darkness, the look in his eyes unmistakeable as he told Albus he would one day kill him for his decision. And the boy that returned, the aloof, cold, manipulative boy whose name was cleared and he was able to return to Hogwarts, had dove directly in the darkness and wore it as proudly as Albus wore his own robes.
And it was Albus' fault.
Albus' fault for not listening to Severus when he said that Petunia Dursley was mistreating her nephew. It was Albus' fault for allowing his past to cloud his judgement on the present. How many times had his own mother been accused of abuse for the way the tried desperately to shield and protect Arianna? 'Abuse' was a terrible word that held the ability to taint a lovely and respected woman and turn her into someone bleak and depressed. So Albus wrote Severus' words off and lost his friend and the prophesied vanquisher of Tom in one fell, stubborn, foolish, tumble.
And Albus knew it. But he couldn't go back and attempt to correct his mistakes, he wasn't sure if he would make different choices now, as certain as he'd been of those decisions at the time, and so he picked up his losses and carried on as his mother taught him to do.
Fawkes let out a soft cry when Albus entered his office. He flew to Albus and perched on his shoulder, rubbing his beak along the side of Albus' face.
"Hello, dear," Albus said softly. He stroked Fawkes soft and vivid feathers gently. "Have you missed me?"
Fawkes let out a soft cry, sounding affirmative enough to Albus to momentarily lighten the sorrow that had been weighing him down since his return.
Albus eyed the stack of mail on his desk; the letters from the ministry, the letters from parents, the letters from the board members, and he shook his head at it.
"Tomorrow," he murmured to himself. "I'll tackle it tomorrow."
The day had already brought on one mystery and heavy disappointment, he simply did not have the energy to face an entire stack of any more on this night.
Albus woke the next morning with a renewed energy and a determination to persevere despite the heavy mysteries that surrounded him.
He still had a great many things to accomplish outside of his hunt for Tom's horcruxes, and they couldn't be delayed by an old man's exhaustion. Albus whistled as he made his way to breakfast, a spark of optimism filling him.
Horace had been very simple to convince to come back to Hogwarts, even as a part time position. Or, more likely, especially because of the part time position. Albus thought that Horace may be in hiding from his former pupil, but Horace had been at his home in Scotland when Albus first began seeking him out. Albus had believed that perhaps it meant Horace was a braver man than he had given him credit for, refusing to hide from Tom even when Albus knew that Tom confided a few secrets in him, but now he wasn't so certain.
The way Horace seemed to glom on to Potter, despite the boy favoring Tom in both looks and behaviors was startling.
Did Horace not recall the last brilliant, charming, handsome, charismatic, powerful young Slytherin he had doted on? Did Horace not see the resemblance, did he not mind doting on the present day vision of young Tom, or had something happened to alter Horace's views?
That was the question Albus was determined to find an answer to today, despite Horace's determination to avoid him.
Albus seated himself at the head table and immediately turned to Horace with a joyful smile. "Horace, how have your classes been?"
"You ask me the same thing every time you see me, Albus," Horace wagged a finger at Albus. "And I always tell you the same thing, they're fine."
Albus chuckled and poured a cup of tea. "An old man forgets anything that happened before he woke up for the day," he joked. "A downfall of the elderly, I'm afraid."
Horace huffed a small laugh, "You're just as sneaky as you were fifty years ago," he accused him. "'Elderly', bah! I don't believe it."
"Oh you'll believe it in another forty or fifty years," Albus warned him. "Then perhaps you'll be sitting here wondering if these are the same students you had just last week."
Horace laughed again, which was leagues more relaxed around Albus than he had been since term started. He had seemed happy enough to resume his revised position as potions Professor, but he had not seemed too keen on resuming a friendship with Albus.
Perhaps that was something Albus could change.
"Horace, would you like to pop by my office tonight? Perhaps have a nightcap and a game of cards?"
Horace's eyes narrowed slightly, but Albus kept up his genial smile until he finally nodded.
"A nightcap then," he agreed. "Why don't you come down from the tower and we can meet in my office, hmm?"
"Wonderful!" Albus cried. "Seven o'clock then?"
Horace agreed, albeit a little curtly, and Albus began planning.
There was nothing for it. Albus had tried to be subtle, he tried prodding gently, but he would simply have to bring up Tom's name tonight and gauge Horace's reaction.
It carried a great cost, with the possibility of Slughorn outright fleeing Hogwarts as a worst case scenario, but it also carried the possibility of Albus determining what precisely Tom Riddle confided in Horace all those years ago.
It was with this plan that Albus arrived at Horace's lavish office at seven o'clock that evening. He brought along a bottle of sherry and a jar of Horace's beloved crystallized pineapple.
"What do you really want, Albus?" Horace asked suspiciously when Albus placed the gifts on his desk and took a seat across from him.
"You wound me, Horace," Albus said with a twinkling smile. "I merely wanted to catch up with my old friend, perhaps reminisce on the old days, relive our youth."
"I don't know what you mean 'our' youth, I'm still plenty young," Horace said gruffly. He relaxed in his seat when Albus poured them both a glass of sherry and took the first drink. "And good riddance to 'the old days'," Horace added. "I've always preferred to think of the future."
"The mysterious future," Albus hummed. "A curious thing to ponder."
"Anything is better than the terrible times of today," Horace said. He took a long drink of his sherry and smacked his lips. "All this death and darkness from You-Know-Who, you can't blame someone for thinking of a brighter future."
It was likely the best opening Albus could hope for.
"Hmm," Albus nodded in agreement. "It does tend to make you recall back when he was just little Tom Riddle though, doesn't it?"
"Tom Riddle?" Horace looked up sharply. "What are you on about, Albus?"
Albus stared hard at Horace. Tom had been a long time favorite of his, the man used to sing his praises at every staff meeting. It was Horace who pushed for Tom's placement as Head Boy, despite Albus' reservations. Albus looked over at the wall of photographs briefly, cataloging the famous and successful pupils that Horace was so proud of.
He was certain that the only reason Tom had not made the wall, was because Horace knew who he grew to be.
"Voldemort's name, Horace," Albus said gently, ignoring Horace's grimace at the name, "Tom Riddle. Your student, you knew that, surely?"
Horace squinted at Albus, weighing his words for a moment. "I never taught any Tom Riddle. Never had a Riddle, period."
Albus' insides chilled as he read the truth of Horace's words in his eyes.
Horace didn't remember his once most prized pupil.
"Are you feeling alright, Albus? You look unwell."
Albus rose to his feet, shaken to his core. "I think I am unwell, thank you for your hospitality, Horace. I'll see you at breakfast."
Horace watched as Albus slowly left the room, his eyes tight and curious at Albus' abrupt departure.
Albus pondered the Horace situation until late in the night.
Horace truly did not remember Tom. And Tom, even without knowing who he grew to be, was as remarkably memorable as Harry.
So who had obliviated Tom from Horace's memory? It was a short list of suspects, as it had to be a witch or wizard of remarkable power that did it. And, when he factored in someone with an interest in Tom and access to Horace, the list shrunk to two possibilities.
Harry or Severus.
"Hmm." Albus hummed thoughtfully to himself. He tapped his fingernails on his desk and repeated himself aloud. "Harry or Severus?"
Harry was a distinct possibility, especially if he turned out to be the one attacking students and wiping their memories.
"But to what end?"
Harry had shown no loyalty to Tom, despite Albus' initial fears. And certainly after Miss Bones nearly died at the hands of Tom's followers and Miss Lovegood's father was killed over the summer, surely Harry would only oppose the man that much more. Harry's loyalty was admirable, if nothing else. Albus couldn't see him working with Tom. Not now, not anymore.
Severus and his ever growing list of secrets, with his frequent trips out of the castle, was as much a possibility as Harry was. If anyone had the power and the brains to piece together Tom's secret, it would be Severus.
Except Severus loved the boy. He loved the boy more than Albus had imagined he could. It broke Albus' heart when he realized how much Severus loved a child that was destined to die. He never imagined that Severus would form such a bond with James' son, Sirius' godson. But Severus loved the boy. Severus would die for the child, that much was obvious to all but Harry himself. Severus had always been a cautious man, never a fan of big risks. And big risks were all he has taken since Albus expelled Harry.
So Severus would not have done it to protect Tom, either.
But what other goal would someone achieve by wiping Horace's memory? And, if they were the one who found and removed the hypothetical horcrux in the Gaunt shack, why?
Albus could see one event being done to hasten Tom's end. He was certain that it was Severus who found the existence of the horcruxes and began finding and destroying them to save Harry.
And Albus could see Harry wiping Tom, or Timmy as he called him to Albus' never ending amusement, from Horace's mind as either a move to show loyalty to Tom, or, more likely, as an offering between them? Perhaps Tom told Harry if he erased Horace's memory that he would end his attacks in Harry's friends' family? It could also have been a threat, 'do this or I'll kill Draco's father'. Either way, it was likely that it had been Harry who erased Horace's mind along with Miss Weasley and Mister Finnigan.
But Albus could not think of a single reason, threat, or possibility that would cause Severus and Harry to work towards opposite goals.
The two of them were closer than any parent and child, closer than any best of friends. When Severus woke in the hospital wing, it took him less than a fraction of a second to immediately back Harry's lies about Barty Crouch Jr being behind his abduction and Severus' injuries. When Harry fell during his last quidditch match, Severus had reached the field before Harry could hit the ground. And everyone spoke of Harry's absolute dedication to Severus.
They would never work to opposite goals; one moving against Tom, and one assisting him.
Never.
Which meant Albus must be missing a piece of the puzzle before him. And he had to solve the puzzle to defeat Tom before their community faced such a loss of life that even Gellert hadn't worked towards.
And there weren't many ways to discover this missing piece. Albus had ruined any chance he once had at gaining Harry or Severus' trust, they saw him as an enemy now. Certainly since May, if not before.
Severus saw Albus make the decision to sacrifice the boy, the horcrux, to delay Tom.
And Harry saw Albus move to kill him. In a neatly orchestrated move by Tom, Harry had regained his green eyed sight just in time to see the green curse Albus sent at him.
And, thus, neither would accept Albus' offer to work in tangent against Tom. In fact, it was likely that if either of them discovered that Albus knew Harry carried a horcrux within him, they would move to end his life. Certainly Severus would, anyway. Severus would kill Albus before he allowed Albus to kill Harry.
Severus would never believe Albus if he told him Harry was safe, and Albus would never lie to him about it either. He had too much respect for Severus to do so. Harry didn't need to die today, he didn't even need to die until the other horcruxes were destroyed, but he would eventually have to die. It was a tragedy. Every life, every soul, was precious. The soul of a child, even if the boy had undoubtedly damaged his with the lives Albus knew he had taken, was all the more precious.
Harry could have possibly another few years. Albus hoped they would be happy years, filled with joy and love, but in the end, Harry would have to die.
One life, for what was certain to be millions.
In another world, Harry would understand. Harry would see the necessity of his selfless sacrifice and offer his life freely, as Albus would if he were in his shoes. But not in this world. Harry would never, and Severus would never allow it.
It was the most disturbing knowledge to carry. Every time Albus saw the boy, at meals with his friends, in the corridors, even when Albus occasionally passed by his classes, it tore at Albus that Harry would likely never live to see twenty. Harry would never live past the age of his tragically young parents.
It was terrible, but there was a part of Albus that was minutely relieved as well.
Harry may never live to see twenty, but the wizarding world would never have to see the boy hero they revered become the next dark wizard they feared.
But Harry's death could be years away, and all the further if Albus was unable to solve the puzzle before him.
And so he carefully planned, painstakingly plotted, and went to bed when the sun was rising with an idea in his mind.
"Sir?" The young boy poked his head in Albus' office the next evening, his green eyes bright with curiosity. "You wanted to see me?"
"Come in, my boy, come in!" Albus said cheerfully. "Please, have a seat."
He watched as Mister Bailey inched warily in Albus' office, his head twisting and turning to take in all the sights of the Headmaster's office, before he tentatively sat on the edge of his chair.
"Did I do something wrong, sir?" Mister Bailey asked, quite politely, after folding his hands on his lap.
"Not at all," Albus assured him. He gave young Trent a smile and folded his own hands harmlessly on his desk. "I merely wanted to ask you how your apprenticeship with Professor Black was going?"
"Oh." Trent seemed to relax slightly at the easy topic. "It's great, sir. Siri- uh... Professor Black is brill! I learned a lot from him last summer, and he said we can work on even more this summer."
"Excellent," Albus said honestly.
He had been surprised when he resumed his role as Headmaster and saw that Minerva approved an apprenticeship for Trent Bailey and Sirius Black last school year. It was a peculiar arrangement, not one frequently seen. Yet, when Albus had seen it, it was always from Slytherin students who Severus believed had unhappy home lives.
Severus, despite his many attempts to cause people to believe otherwise, truly had a heart of gold and cared for his charges. Even if Severus no longer believed in Albus' good intentions, Albus firmly believed, outside of his choices regarding Harry, that Severus had honorable intentions in all his decisions. Harry seemed to be Severus' blind spot, causing him to behave unethically in his lies about Tom's return and his trips out of the castle, but outside of that, Severus was a good man.
And Severus clearly believed that Trent Bailey had required his assistance, especially if he had sought out Sirius to do so.
"Sirius is a good man," Albus told Trent. "Despite what some may say," he added with a teasing smile.
Trent smiled back, an easy smile that Albus was pleased to believe was a rather permanent fixture on the boys' face. "Yes sir," he agreed. "Professor Black is great. Remus too, of course, but Professor Black always has fun ideas. He makes it easy to learn defense. We even worked on OWL level transfiguration this summer."
Albus smiled at the boys' exuberance and joy. It had been the reason Albus sought him out, as opposed to one of Harry's other, closer, friends. Harry's friends were as tightly knit to him as Tom's circle of friends had been to him. Just as you never saw one of Tom's friends without another, you never saw Miss Granger without Mister Nott, Mister Weasley without Mister Malfoy, nor even Mister Longbottom without Mister Zabini. And never, rarely ever, was Harry seen without Miss Bones or Miss Lovegood by his side.
It was heartening, to know that Harry carried such attachments to his friends, but so had Tom.
And his friends became the first marked death eaters.
Trent though, he was younger than the others, not so tightly knit within the group. Certainly he idolized Harry, anyone could see that, but he also did a great many things without the others. Which made Albus believe that he was not as integrated within the circle, and thus may speak more freely.
Close enough to perhaps assist Albus in solving the puzzle, but not so close that he would turn Albus away, as Mister Longbottom had.
"I hope you found time to enjoy yourself over the summer as well," Albus said with a mock expression of solemnity over his half-moon spectacles at Trent. "Sirius surely didn't spend all your time on academics, did he?"
"Oh, no," Trent laughed. "We went on vacation too, sir. It was amazing. Have you ever been to Florida? It was super sunny, but really fun. Harry and I raced on jet skis, and Sirius said if I get good grades at the end of the year exams, he'd buy a jet ski for me and Harry both for our birthdays next summer!"
It wasn't surprising to Albus that Sirius had lied to him when Albus asked him if he had seen much of Harry over the summer at the last Order meeting. Sirius was as against the dark arts and those who practiced them as Albus himself was, but Sirius had more love and loyalty in his heart than perhaps any other wizard Albus had known.
And there was likely no person Earthside that Sirius loved more than his godson.
Harry Potter had a knack for inspiring loyalty, just as Tom Riddle did before him.
What was surprising, was that Trent had provided Albus an excellent opening for the topic he wanted to discuss, despite Albus not pressing for it yet.
"I have been to Florida, though I admit I never rode a jet ski," Albus chuckled. "Did you enjoy vacationing with Harry? I would think you would rather have had someone your age to spend time with."
"Not really," Trent waved his hand airily and grinned. "Harry's loads of fun to hang out with, Fred too."
"Fred Weasley?" Albus asked. Trent bobbed his head in a small nod. "Fred was known as quite the troublemaker," Albus said with a wink. "Not as much as Harry, certainly, but Fred had his fair share of detentions."
"Harry isn't a troublemaker, sir," Trent said, his eyes beginning to narrow slightly. "Harry never gets detention, except for when he gets too cheeky with Professor Black sometimes."
"Aah, Harry rarely gets caught," Albus said in a knowing tone. If Trent believed Albus already knew of Harry's misdeeds, he may be more likely to discuss them. "Fred just never had Harry's talent for secrecy."
"Harry doesn't do anything wrong, sir," Trent said, his voice edging towards a cool tone. "Harry's brill. He always helps other students with their spells, and helps people protect themselves, and takes care of people. Harry's a hero."
Albus truly despised doing this, but he didn't carry a whole lot of cards left up his sleeve to play and the puzzle needed solving. Albus lightly skimmed Trent's mind and felt proof of what he saw in his eyes- love.
Harry may not have as much capacity for love as Albus hoped he would, for only love would drive a person to sacrifice their life for others, but he had apparently inspired it within those closest to him.
And Albus of all people knew that when you loved someone, it would take nothing short of a miracle to cause you to turn against them.
Albus subtly shifted topics away from Harry, sensing the dead-end from Trent. Trent loved Harry, saw him as the older brother he had always wanted. If he knew Harry's secrets, he would carry them to his grave. He chatted with Trent for a short while, truly enjoying the view Trent had on Hogwarts, his classes, and his professors.
After Albus dismissed him, he could admit that it was refreshing to chat with one of the students. It served as a reminder to Albus who it was that he worked for, who it was that he had to protect.
But when Fawkes flew to Albus' shoulder, he could also admit that his abilities to protect the students, the innocent children within the castle, was dwindling with his lack of understanding on the Tom and Harry situation.
"They are not two sides of the same coin, but rather two identical coins with differing serial numbers," Albus mused as he stroked Fawkes wing. "If I can't understand why Harry would obliviate Horace, then I'm afraid that he is planning a different type of war than I'm used to fighting."
Fawkes hooted and ruffled his feathers.
"I know." Albus leaned back in his chair, exhausted by the exceptionally unproductive week he has had. It seemed like he had piled more questions, more mysteries, on himself than he had any answers. "We still have the other one," Albus murmured to his feathered companion. "Perhaps they will be able to discover Harry's plot with Horace and bring it to me. They haven't failed us on bringing us information on the boy before, have they?"
Fawkes made a mewling sort of noise, that Albus chose to believe was his agreement.
When he went to bed that night, he prayed that Friday morning would bring him the end of his mentally draining week, and perhaps his spy could even bring along some sort of helpful and relevant information.
It was a fruitless prayer, as was quickly proven.
Albus had hardly worked through a third of his stack of endless mail before his floo chimed. He waved his wand, allowing entry to whoever sought him out, and rose to his feet as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped through.
Kingsley's face was grave, the same sobriety in the line of his lips and the set of his shoulders that he had the last few times he brought Albus news of the death of one of his students' family members.
"I'm afraid I have terrible news, Albus," Kingsley said slowly. "There was an attack early this morning..."
Albus slowly sank to his seat, horror filling him with every word Kingsley spoke.
Albus had been relieved to be reinstated as Headmaster at the end of the summer, yet days like today made the coward in him wish that he had Minerva remain Headmistress instead.
"You're certain?" Albus asked Kingsley, stricken and heart-broken by what he shared.
"I am," Kingsley said solemnly.
Albus nodded slowly and cleared away the letters that still required correspondence. Why had he ever complained about writing our replies when this was a much more terrible duty laid on his shoulders? Yet again, Tom had taken a life, and Albus was the one who would have to inform the loved ones that were left behind.
"Would you like me to wait here, sir?" Kingsley asked.
"Yes, please," Albus said wearily. "I'm certain this won't go over well. Best to have backup, so to speak."
No. This announcement would not go well at all.
Kingsley gave Albus a small nod of acknowledgment, and remained beside the floo.
And Albus, true coward that he was, wished it was Minerva who had to do this one, despite knowing it must be him. He would have to be the one to continue telling these students that their loved ones had perished until Tom was stopped.