Dumbledore strode down the quiet suburban street. It seemed like an affluent neighbourhood with large multi-storey houses, most of which had exquisitely designed and maintained gardens. Harry must be doing well for himself, he thought. He wondered what Harry had been up to all these years.
He could only hope and pray that the boy had not given up on his magic. He would need it now more than ever. He had to defeat Voldemort after all. He was the only one who could do it.
Even if he hadn't given up his magic and perhaps enrolled in another school, there really was no substitute for a Hogwarts education. He would have to train the boy extensively before the boy would be ready to face Voldemort. Dumbledore sighed heavily; he certainly had his work cut out for him.
He stopped in front of a particularly nice house, well he thought it was nice but for some reason his eyes kept sliding right off it and he found himself having to concentrate particularly hard to keep himself from walking right past it . Luckily, the tracker was pointing straight at it so this had to be Harry's house. He might have walked right past it if the tracker had not been pointing to it. There was probably some sort of notice-me-not ward around the property. No muggle-repellant ward which was strange for a wizard's house but aah, there was the expected wizard-repelling ward. Unless you were keyed into one of those, you could not enter. Well, Fawkes could certainly be able to flame him right through that but that would not be very discrete, now would it. On a street like this...tossing up a notice-me-not spell of his own would probably work but was not an absolute guarantee. Not in broad daylight, no.
No, he would just have to discretely break through that ward himself. He took out his wand and set to work.
~oo00oo~
Harry's mouth was wide open as he gaped dumbly at the sight of Albus Dumbledore standing outside his front gates. For some strange reason he had never expected to see the Headmaster of his former school. There was something terribly incongruous and strange about seeing Albus Dumbledore outside of Hogwarts.
He had been prepared to see Voldemort backed up by hordes of Death Eaters. He would not have been surprised to see a flock of Dementors or even a pack of werewolves but for some reason the sight of Albus Dumbledore had reduced his brain to a stuttering gibbering wreck.
"What the hell is he doing here?" he sputtered.
"Hmm," Luna mused. "Well, considering you are the only one to have ever defeated Voldemort before and Dumbledore has been opposing him, if rather ineffectually, I would say that he probably believes that he needs you to defeat Voldemort."
"What?" exclaimed Harry. "Just because of...b-but...b-but...that doesn't make any sense."
"Doesn't have to make sense for it to be true, Harry," said Luna. "Dumbledore has always been rather famous for his eccentricities. There's no telling what he believes."
Harry gaped at Luna. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was absolutely right. She did make it a habit of being right more often than not.
"In any case, he's here now. What are we going to do about it?" she asked.
Harry shook his head. Damn it, he needed a plan. What was he going to do about the fact that a man, his former Headmaster, who was dressed in luridly coloured robes which were the very antithesis of sartorial splendour, was standing in front of his house.
"Absolutely nothing," he announced to Luna's surprise.
"Nothing..." she echoed.
"Nope, we're just going to ignore him and just go ahead and perform the Fidelius. The wards will keep him out until we're done. Hell, it should take him weeks to break through my wards and it shouldn't take us more than an hour or so to prepare. With a bit of luck he'll forget all about why he's come here as soon as we cast the Fidelius."
"Are you sure the wards are strong enough to keep him out?" Luna asked in a worried tone. This was Albus Dumbledore they were talking about after all. Who knew exactly what the old man was capable of doing?
"Absolutely," said Harry as he whirled around to the mirror on which he saw that Dumbledore had taken out his wand and was already attempting to break through his wards.
Luna stared at the wand with interest. Despite having studied at Hogwarts for three years, well three and a bit if you really wanted to be precise and include her aborted fourth year, this was the first time she was getting a good look at Dumbledore's wand. The sight of it reminded her of some of her father's research. She would really have to dig out his files and have a look at them again.
"And will you look at that, he's already trying to break in. Bit rude don't you think? He didn't even try to call the house on the intercom and it's barely a couple of feet from where he's standing. I've got half a mind to call the police and have him arrested for breaking and entering," said Harry.
"Still, don't worry. It'll take him weeks to penetrate all the layers. We should probably get started on that Fidelius," said Harry.
"All the layers...you know we've never really discussed the wards. I mean, I know you've put in a lot of work on them and I know there are a lot of them but... Exactly how many wards are their around the house?" asked Luna.
"Well, the Head of the Warding Department back at college always recommended a minimum set of at least seven wards, usually a mix of defensive, offensive and something unexpected. Something about the number seven being magically significant and working especially well. He had some sort of complicated arithmancy proof that he used to assign for extra credit that proved it but I was never really that interested in the theory behind it," said Harry.
"No, just the practical aspects, right? So, we've got at least seven ward's...why do I get the feeling that that's not the whole story?" asked Luna.
"Hmmm...that's because a set of seven is the minimum my professor recommended. I wanted to make sure that our home was really well protected..." said Harry.
"So..." asked Luna.
"So, I've got interlocking rings of three hundred and forty-three wards," explained Harry.
"Three hundred and... oh I get it. That's seven times seven times seven isn't it?" exclaimed Luna. "Seems a bit excessive though," she muttered to herself.
"Yes, so like I said there's absolutely no way that he can break in before we cast the fidelius..." he paused and stared furiously at the mirror at what Dumbledore was doing before pulling out what looked like a small pocket watch and peering worriedly at it.
"That damned idiot! I mean, I knew he was bloody incompetent...after all the shit he allowed to happen at Hogwarts' but this really...I mean really...What in buggering bloody hell is the man thinking?" asked Harry furiously.
"What? What's the problem?" asked Luna.
"He's trying to bloody brute force his way past the first ward. Is he insane? Who the hell does that?" raged Harry.
"Brute force...as opposed to?" asked Luna, wishing for the first time that she had also studied up on wards just so that she could follow what on earth Harry was so worried about.
"As opposed to having half a brain in his bloody head," shouted Harry, before visibly calming himself and continuing. "If you want to break into someone's house, the smart thing to do would be to pick the lock on their front door, maybe pry open a window, right? What Dumbledore is doing is the equivalent of battering down the door with a sledgehammer or maybe tossing a grenade at it," explained Harry.
"Hmmm, and this is stupid...because?" asked Luna.
Harry sighed heavily. "It's stupid because breaking the wards that way means the daft bugger is never going to notice that there is a secondary antipersonnel ward tied to the first ward. It's stupid because I never thought that I wouldn't want to kill someone who's trying to break through my wards. It's stupid because the moment he breaks through the first ward we're going to end up with one inch cubes of Albus freaking Dumbledore decorating our street."
He waved his little pocket watch at her. "According to my ward monitor, at the rate he's going he's probably going to break through the first ward in about five minutes. So...What the hell do we do? I don't particularly want him dead but I sure as hell don't want to go out and talk to the...the...idiotic bloody sod."
Luna looked serenely at Harry while she mused over the problem. Really, she held no great affection for Dumbledore, years of being bullied at Hogwarts had not left her feeling particularly warm towards the teachers who failed to protect her, but it would be in shockingly bad taste to decorate the street that way. It would certainly scare away the local population of Blibbering Humdingers and might even annoy the neighbours just a bit.
~oo00oo~
Dumbledore stood outside the house, his wand pointed straight ahead. Soon, he would be through the wards. He gritted his teeth in effort. Strange, the ward was a lot stronger than he expected and he kept having the urgent desire and need to go back to Hogwarts to check on it. That must be the effect of another ward. A strong one too. Harry had to be complimented on how well he had protected his house. He wondered who exactly had done the warding. Probably the goblins, he thought. No matter, he was close to breaking through. He could feel it. Any moment now, the ward would pop like a balloon and he would be able to enter. Any moment now...
Suddenly a voice broke the silence as a young man exited the house - "You know, I'm sure there are better ways to commit suicide. Care to tell me why you decided to kill yourself in front of my house?"
Dumbledore, nearly dropped his wand in surprise. He felt a bit embarrassed at being caught in the act of breaking in but ruthlessly crushed those emotions as he brought forth his usual public persona.
"Aah Harry, my dear dear boy. You have no idea how good it is to see you after so many many years," said Dumbledore as he beamed at the dark haired young man. Harry was looking well, he decided. No longer a scrawny teen, he had filled out very well and looked extremely health and muscular.
"Can it, Dumbledore. I really don't appreciate it when people try to break into my house. So why don't you just bugger off back to wherever you came from," snapped Harry.
Dumbledore was quite taken aback at the hostility that Harry was displaying. Yes, perhaps it had been a bit presumptuous of him to have tried to break through the wards but he had seen no other way to contact the house. What had he been supposed to do? Stand outside the front gates and yell? Make an utter spectacle of himself as he attempted to garner Harry's attention? Still, he would soldier on. He would just have to ignore Harry's utterly appalling rudeness.
"My dear boy, I do apologise. At my advanced age, I sometimes forget the proprieties. I do hope you can forgive me." There, that should be enough to placate the boy and it seemed to have worked. The boy's expression had softened a bit. Good, that was good.
"Well, I guess there's no harm done after all," said Harry. "Unfortunately Professor, you've caught me at a rather bad time. Perhaps you could come back some other day." Harry didn't really expect Dumbledore to just go away, but there was no harm in trying.
"Harry, I have come a very long way to see you, my boy. Surely, you can't me to turn me away? Not after I've been searching for you for so many years."
"I have a lot to do today Professor, especially since you seem to have found me so easily. Voldemort could turn up at any moment. I have to...I have to...I need to make sure I am protected for when that happens and I really don't have any time to stand around debating things with you," stated Harry.
Dumbledore's face turned pale for the briefest of moments before he schooled his expression back into geniality. "My dear Harry," he said. "I assure you, Voldemort will not be able to find you so easily. I'm sure it will take him weeks or maybe months before he gets the slightest idea where you are."
"What makes you so certain of that fact, Professor?" asked Harry. Damn it, he needed to get rid of the bugger and get started on his Fidelius. Bloody hell, why couldn't the old man just go?
"You know what?" snapped Harry before Dumbledore had even opened his mouth to start formulating a response. "I really don't have time to sit around here arguing with you, you can stand around here all day for all I care." With that, Harry turned around and strode back towards his house. He hadn't even reached the front door however when he felt his wards being attacked again.
"God damn it," he screamed before running back to his front gates and grabbing a surprised Dumbledore. He took a hold of the man's robes, pressed what could have been a pocket watch or a brooch of some sort against his forehead and then dragged him towards the house.
"Bugger it," he cried. "I really don't want to have your death on my conscience so...damn...frak it...I'm giving you guest access. As long as you don't do any active magic you can come into the house." He hustled Dumbledore inside the house and forced him into a chair in his living room.
"Sit there, and don't bloody move," he shouted. "I've set the wards so that you can't leave this room. Whatever you do don't do any magic. None, whatsoever. Even a Lumos charm will see you physically ejected outside the house by the wards and let me tell you that is really not a comfortable experience. At your age, you'll be lucky if it doesn't kill you. At the bare minimum you'll break your bloody hips."
Dumbledore stared at Harry, in all his vast experience he had never heard of a ward of that type. Could Harry be bluffing? Well, there was one way to find out, but he really could not take that chance. Even if the wards did not work as advertised, at this point he could not afford to antagonise Harry.
He shouted out to Harry, who had been about to leave the room. "Wait, Harry, please. It is extremely important that you hear me out."
Harry turned around and stared at him, an impatient look upon his face.
"Harry, my...well, you're hardly a boy any more but still...I implore you. I know what you are most likely heading off to do but..."
"Really, and what do you think I am about to do?" snapped Harry, interrupting Dumbledore.
"The Fidelius charm of course. From your reaction on seeing me I take it that the charm was not broken by design. Which means that you intend to cast it again, correct? Once you do that I will no doubt forget everything I know about you. Trust me, you do not want that to happen," claimed Dumbledore.
"Why not?" asked Harry, he was more than a little put out that Dumbledore had guessed what he was planning.
"I have something that I have to tell you. Information that it is absolutely vital for you to know. Facts that I should have informed you off years ago. Please...Harry, promise me that you will not send me away without listening to me. Please, I beg you. If you ever held even the slightest bit of regard for me...Promise me, Harry," begged Dumbledore.
"I...I don't really think...after all these years...nothing you could possibly say..." said Harry.
"Please, it is of vital importance that you be informed of your destiny..." said Dumbledore.
"My destiny? I don't suppose you could tell me in say the next five minutes?" asked Harry.
Dumbledore looked a little flabbergasted at the thought of condensing everything he had to say within five minutes. How exactly would that conversation go? He could only imagine. Harry relented a bit at the look on Dumbledore's face. Perhaps it would not be the worst thing in the world if Dumbledore knew who he was. After all, as long as he wasn't the secret keeper it wasn't as if he could go around telling anybody else who Harry really was.
"Fine, you're right," he said. "I am, in fact, going to recast the Fidelius. After I'm done with that, I will come back and talk to you for a while. In the meantime, I suggest you wait over here in the living room."
Harry turned around and sped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind himself. Dumbledore sank down into the couch and buried his head in his hands. Oh dear, oh dear, he thought. He might forget why he had come there once Harry cast the charm. Chances were, he might just wander off and then he would never find Harry again. A note, that's what he needed. He would write a note to himself.
He looked around the room and found it depressingly modern. He himself preferred furniture that looked a bit lived in. Something with a few years, preferably decades, behind it. In any case, the important point was that there wasn't a single quill or a piece of parchment in sight.
He fumbled within his robes. Surely, he had something...aah, what luck, he was in fact carrying a self-inking quill. Now if only he could find some parchment but alas, that was not to be.
He looked around morosely. No parchment, whatever was he going to do. He started another search of the many pockets in his voluminous robes but all he could come up with was a handkerchief. It would have to do. It was hard for him to constantly stop himself from reaching for his wand. Usually, it would take him hardly a second to conjure up something simple like parchment and a quill. Being utterly unable to do magic left him feeling terribly out of sorts.
He stared off into the distance before beginning to scribble upon his handkerchief. The ink blotted terribly but it would have to do. He could not write anything directly related to Harry. That information would be unreadable as soon as the Fidelius was cast. However, a note to himself, admonishing himself not to leave the house under any circumstances. Not until he had spoken to the inhabitant about the Boy-Who-Lived. A few more dire warnings about the absolute importance of not leaving until he had finished the task. Not to do any magic, etcetera etcetera. Yes, that should be enough.
Then there was nothing left to do but wait. The house was absolutely still and the waiting was intolerable. He felt an almost unbearable tension to be doing something. He did not care what. Anything. He paced around the room. He tried all the doors leading out of it. They were all locked and he could almost feel the thrum of magic and power that reinforced them. Whoever had warded the house had not stopped at the exterior walls. It was clear that even within the house there were multiple defences just waiting to be triggered.
Even the ticking of a clock seemed to boom loudly in the unbearable quiet. How much longer would it take he wondered. Surely, Harry must be done by now. It should not be taking him so long to cast a Fidelius. But, on the other hand, he realised that Harry had probably had to go and fetch his new secret keeper. Most likely he would be using some friend of his.
When would Harry return? He hoped that Harry...He blinked slowly. What had he been thinking about? He stared around the room in confusion. Why had he come to this...this obviously muggle house? Why was he clutching an ink-stained handkerchief? Oh, there was writing on it. A strangely cryptic note written in his own handwriting exhorting him not to leave the house along with some warnings and an order to speak to whoever lived there and not to leave until they told him who they were.
He frowned. Why had he written such a note to himself?
Why?
Just then the door opened and a dark haired stranger entered. Dumbledore stared at the young man. Was this the person who was supposed to give him the answers he had been searching for?
He was a reasonably unremarkable person. Messy dark hair and green eyes. He stood there fidgeting with a pencil in his hand.
The young man pulled up a chair, sat down and for one long moment he and Albus Dumbledore stared at each other.
Dumbledore did not quite know how to start. What was he supposed to say?
"Err," he started, before coughing nervously. The young man seemed oddly amused at his discomfort.
"Would you mind telling me who you are?" he asked.
"Would I mind? No, not particularly," said the young man with a bit of a smirk. For some reason he looked exceptionally pleased with himself at that moment.
Dumbledore found that to be exceptionally annoying. Here he was trying to desperately figure out why he was where he was and this...this young whippersnapper, this...this...boy was playing word games with him.
"Well?" he snapped with the glare he used to reserve solely for the most appalling of his students.
"Well, what?" asked the boy with a gormless grin.
"Who are you?" asked Dumbledore through gritted teeth.
The boy shrugged. "Does it really make any difference? Who is anyone, really? I can give you my name, but what would that tell you? Could you tell me who you are?"
"I am Albus Dumbledore," stated Dumbledore. He was about to add a list of his titles, well, his former titles, when he was interrupted by the boy.
"That's not what I meant," said the boy. "Albus Dumbledore is just your name, your identity if you will. But do you really know who you are? Does anyone?"
Dumbledore stared at the boy in sheer exasperated disbelief. What on earth was he nattering on about? He knew very well who he was, thank you very much. He groaned, yes it was going to be a long exasperating day.
~oo00oo~
Luna sat back in bed and giggled her head off. The mirror on the wall in front of her was displaying a view of the living room where Harry and Dumbledore were sitting, a view that could beat any high definition television in the market for picture quality and sound. She couldn't help but find Dumbledore's current facial expression to be absolutely sidesplittingly funny.