There is a soft knock at the door. This must be the Headmaster. I walk down the hall and open the front door. A tall, very old man stands before me, wearing what looks to be a long purple dress.
"Mr Dumbledore, I presume?" I hold out my hand.
"Ah, Yes. You must be Harry." He shakes my hand. His rings touch my fingers, a huge amount of information flows into me head.
This man is 114 years old, he's worn one of these rings since he was 8 and the other has been in his possession for only a few years less, but is older than even him. 400 years old, this one has been carried by many wizards, it produces a magical shield to stop spells.
"Please, come in." I step back and point him into the living room.
"Are your Aunt and Uncle not home?" He asks, sitting down on the sofa.
"After receiving your reply, I suggested that they spend the day elsewhere, they have an aversion to magical things. Speaking of which, that ring you wear, the shielding one, it's quite fantastic." He looks somewhat surprised as he idly touches the ring.
"Fascinating. I see that your letter was not unfounded. How is it that you knew to write to me? From what you told me, your Aunt wouldn't have given you my name." He frowns slightly, clearly not entirely happy with the situation.
"There is a box of my parents things in the loft, including their will, written by one Albus Dumbledore." I hand him the will from the coffee table, he reads it before watching me for a while.
"How much can you divine from this alone?" He asks.
This is the original copy." I say. "Someone not quite human handled it briefly, a Goblin, but I'm not quite sure what that means. His fingers were rough and he would have handled precious metals a lot."
"It would have only been in his possession for a short time." Dumbledore marvels. "His interaction with the will would have been mere minutes to make a copy."
"I felt every spot on it. Every millimetre I went over, looking for something, anything to connect me to my parents. A tiny spot on the back, something I couldn't see with my eyes, unlocked this piece of information. I think it may have been a piece of skin."
"After all these years?" He raises a white eyebrow. "The parchment has been made to be unaffected by time, perhaps this is why."
"I assume he is, or was, a banker of sorts. With the metals, it must be coins?" He nods as I speak. "The only other things in the box were photographs and, what could only be, two wands."
"You have not touched them?" He asks.
"One of the only pieces of advice that Petunia has ever given me. 'Be careful what you touch.' after she found out what I could do. I liked to look at antiques."
"I'm sure you could have a bright future in antiques dealing." He smiles.
"I had considered it, before I learned about magic. I didn't touch the wands, I wanted someone knowledgeable to be there. I once found a lamp that had been used by a man to beat his wife until she died." I pause for a moment. "It's a blessing and a curse."
"I am truly sorry you had to witness that at such a young age." He looks distraught. "Perhaps holding the wands may not be such a good idea?"
"I seem to react, or get a stronger reaction from, magical things. The ring you wear, the shield, I can tell you that it was exactly 400 years old when you knocked on the door. The woman that crafted and made it magical was named Annabelle Lovegood. She took four weeks to complete it and 17 people have used it. You purchased it from a non-magical man named George Alvis in Spain on your 17th birthday. A man whom you were close to named Gellert tried it on, but it didn't fit him correctly. Thousands of spells have splashed off of the shield through it's life, a few particularly nasty ones from Gellert actually." I laugh softly. "It's odd how those we hold closest can turn on us." His eyes seem to tear up a bit.
"How?"
Magic, I suspect." I smile. "You've been the longest owner of that ring, your life is imprinted onto it. Non-magicals don't leave such heavy or deep imprints, sometimes I can feel where a wizard has walked in the supermarket."
"Truly amazing." He blinks as I stand up.
"The wands are in the loft, I haven't moved them."
"Lead the way." He follows me to the stairs.
"Could I ask what happened to Gellert?" I say quietly. "I understand there were wars."
"He, as many before him, fell prey to the sickness of dark magic." He exhales. "It corrupts one's mind with promises of power. He did a great many things in his pursuit of power, many died to his hand and followers. Much like Voldemort, there will always be the avid worshippers."
"The loft is up there." I point to the hatch, eager to change the subject. "I can't actually reach it myself." I say sheepishly. "Do you mind?" He laughs softly.
"Not to worry." He reaches up and pulls the cord, extending the steps down for us. "Does you ability work on living things?" He asks as we climb.
"Not generally." I duck my head under a beam. "Non-magical humans don't work. I got something from you, but it felt as if you were holding back somehow, blocking me out." I pull the chain to turn the light on.
"Interesting." He stands be my side before the cardboard box. "I was the one to retrieve these possessions, the house was all but destroyed, this was all that remained."
"I know." I say simply.