Hogwarts: Era of Darkness

"Which part?" I asked back calmly, looking up at the old-new Headmaster of Hogwarts, slowly letting go of Quincy's hand as we got ready to use our wands if we must.

"All of it."

"This is why I want to kill you..." I whispered, shaking my head because if he says that, he just told us we won't have children as long as he have a say in it.

"You are welcome to try." He continued just as calmly as before, still standing atop the staircase, talking down on us. "I would prefer it instead of what is happening right now."

"That may just happen." I sneered, feeling my blood being roused from its sleep all of a sudden.

"Even with the Elder Wand, two versus one is not ideal." Quincy added, prepared to fight alongside me.

"Like it would make a difference between us. You both are still young, and if it were not for your guardian, you would already be out of the picture."

"I don't see him here." I provoked him, opening my hands and spreading them with a slight smile.

"Maybe it would be different than in the city..." He murmured, and I saw his fingers twitch, but no wand appeared between them. Instead, he began stroking his beard. "What, he didn't tell you? Still, keeping secrets before his allies? He can't change, can he...?"

"He tells us what needs to be told." I answered seriously and wasn't just saying that to oppose him. I believed it. I guessed as much that something happened on the day in Diagon Alley, but because he didn't mention it, I didn't ask. Not everything needs to be said and shared; that was one of his first lessons.

"I see. I guess he didn't tell you he tried to recruit me, did he? That he offered me to join him." Dumbledore continued. Listening to him, I already realized what he was trying to do. Sadly, that was not going to work, and it just made me chuckle and smile, visibly confusing and then angering him.

"Of course he did; he wants to save you."

"And you believe that?" He asked as if his intelligence was insulted. The fact that he was raising his voice once in a while told us enough. His mask was slipping.

"We do." was our firm answer before I continued explaining, "I only know his past from recollections and contemporary newspapers. You may have known him better, but the current version of him is genuine. It isn't an act, and I am convinced of that fact. His mind and thinking have changed in a way that I have yet to comprehend and may never will."

"That is why he is playing you both."

"No." Quincy sighed, shaking her head, "The manipulator right now is not him, but you, Albus Dumbledore. You became so used to doing it that it became part of you. You don't even realize it, do you?"

"You speak like you know of me." He countered her words, smiling with tangible sarcasm.

"Kind of." I shrugged, remembering all the times Grindelwald recounted their summer together and how they were like lost brothers finally finding each other. "He believes that everything is happening for a reason. Every action has its consequences that will show itself, be it good or bad. If not immediately, then they will accumulate and explode when one expects it the least. He is trying to save you..."

"Save... me? This is why you are still kids... you ate up his speech like I did when I was young. If he was good with something, it was the twisting of words and ideals, using his voice as a spell that was stronger than one of the forbidden curses."

"I believe him." I repeated myself once again, "Before you try to say anything, I believe him because the proof of his current ideals is right before me. He told me that everything that led me to him, to free him, all of it was according to the laws of magic. I can't prove that he is right or wrong, but I believe him when he says we're going to balance everything out one way or another. Just as Neville finished off the Dark Lord, fulfilling the prophecy that foretold him, our journey will end, too... The only difference is that a seer never perceived our prophecy, Albus Dumbledore."

"Fulfilling yours? By killing me? You really place so much importance on me, boy?" He laughed, missing the main point. It was his actions and his desire to collect all three Hallows that caused the imbalance, not his presence or power.

"No, you could live if you gave up on your desire. Me wanting to kill you is a personal issue of ours." I declared as clearly as possible, ending his chuckle. "But, I will leave you with one simple thought." I shrugged once again, holding Quincy's hand, ready to leave this conversation as it was going in circles. "Reflect on your past, like my Master did. Retrace your steps, Albus Dumbledore, and see if they seem familiar. See if you and your old friend switched places or not... According to the will of magic... I think your roles got reversed."

With that, I dared to turn my back to him, holding my wife's hand as we left. We ended our nostalgic tour of the castle early and headed back to the grounds toward our tent instead of visiting the old divination classroom. Maybe next time...

...
....
......

Returning to our tent, Quincy began brewing some tea in the kitchen while I sat down in the living room, occupying one of the old armchairs and looking out the window, where the fake scenery of Hogwarts was greeting me. The inside of our tent was akin to a traditional little cottage: small, cozy, and maybe a bit stuffy with all the little knickknacks, books, and whatnot lying around inside.

"Concerned?" She asked, sitting down in my lap, holding up my cup, and letting me take a sip from it.

"No. Facing him today, I felt not the same fear or the drive to flee, which tells me that although he is still dangerous, my blood thinks I have a chance."

"Then what is it?"

"Do I want to kill him?"

"I don't get it..." She murmured, gently stroking my face and tucking my hair behind my ears.

"Father wasn't stupid. He knew he was using him, and he was fine with it. Seeing him now... I was thinking maybe his biggest punishment would be not death but to make him lose everything. Make him watch as his precious Hallows are being destroyed; make him lose his standing as a grand wizard, savior of the world, two times over... Turning him into a villain. To make him fall and then give him the opportunity to look up and see his own failure."

"Did I tell you that I feel tingly when you are a bad boy?" She added with a chuckle, snuggling up against me as I hugged her.

"A few times, yes."

"Then add another to the list~!"

"Not that I would do everything to keep him alive, though." I shrugged, shaking my head, "But if events play out in a way, he is no longer a threat... So be it."

"Because of Grindelwald?"

"Yeah..." I nodded after a pause, letting out a long breath, "If he cares, I care too. It is that simple."

...
....
......

In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore was sitting in his chair, the Elder Wand resting in his lap while rocking back and forth. His eyes were closed, and he was lost in his memories, traveling back in time. The further he let his thoughts slip, the murkier it all got.

First, it was the days they spent planning, discovering Tom Riddle's secrets, and making plans to defeat him. It was the most dangerous time of his life but also the most thrilling as he fought for power and became even stronger than ever before. Then, as he ventured even further back, he remembered the peaceful days when he pursued knowledge above all else... right until he arrived at the years when he was filled with doubt and stood before his most significant decision yet:

Should he stand with his old friend? Or should he step up to the role so many wanted him to be: the Wizarding World's savior. In the end, he decided on the latter, fighting Grindelwald, going against all that he represented, all that he, Albus Dumbledore helped him formulate and put into action... and by a flash, he was suddenly back in that tumultuous summer in 1899. On the day their plans were completed, with only one last thing to do... To cut all old ties and leave together, to do what must be done. For the Greater Good.

While sitting, his fingers twitched as if he was trying to touch something and measure it, but he couldn't do it. No matter how much he tried, he didn't remember how it felt. What color was it? What was it made of? What about its core? Length? Springiness? He couldn't recall anything about his wand—the same one that helped him defeat Grindelwald, the one that accompanied him until he obtained his very first Hallow.

The more he forced himself, the blurrier everything got... then his head began hurting, and the scenery within his mind changed to the argument between him, his brother Aberforth, his sister Ariana, and Grindelwald himself. The voices were mixed, shouting over each other, a mess that he thought he had buried deep enough to never be able to recall. Yet, here it was, a mismatch of colors, voices, and boiling feelings. He couldn't remember who used the first spell, but in the end, it was he who stood over his dead sister's body, the top of his wand pointing at her unmoving chest.

Looking at his sister's empty, lifeless face made Dumbledore's fingers tense up, twitch, and clench onto the hilt of his wand... which, no matter what, looked like the Elder Wand in his memories. As his blue eyes snapped open, he had to realize he was already standing, his hand stretched out just like in his memory, and he was clenching his wand, pointing it at the air before him. It was his first night in decades that he realized his breathing was hurried, his emerald robes were soaked, and his head was thumping so strongly that it could explode at any given moment.

Without saying a word, he slowly lowered his hand, looking away from the wand, placing it down once again before going to his cabinet. He retrieved a bottle of Dragon Wine and poured it not into a cup but directly into his mouth until his headache finally subsided enough to stop his ears from ringing. At the moment, no thoughts were left in his mind; he only had varied, unsure, and disturbed feelings as he let everything collide and mix together, unable to untangle the mess inside his mind.