Before He Was Great

Author's Note: I know the HP Lexicon says that Dumbledore was born in 1844, but I took the liberty of placing his birth year thirteen years later, in 1857. I have left other timeline years intact, such as Phineas Nigellus Black's birthday year (making him ten years older than Albus instead of three years younger). It's actually for a rather trivial matter, but I don't think the 150 years old thing is completely set in stone.

Also, if anything seems slightly off - like wizarding titles and such - just remember that this is magical Britain in the 1860s. I imagine some things would have been different.

Before He Was Great

~*~

Chapter One: The Minister's Elder Son

Edward Dumbledore, everyone in magical Britain agreed, had been an excellent choice for Minister of Magic. Ever since he first took office two years before, there had hardly been any trouble, since no one could find any objection against him.

The old, conservative wizarding families certainly had nothing against Lord Dumbledore. He had a title, for Merlin's sake, bestowed on his family hundreds of years before by the Wizarding Council. The Dumbledores were a wealthy, respectable, and most of all, pure family. There was no doubt Lord Dumbledore had the complete support of families like the Blacks and Malfoys. Why, Lord Black was Dumbledore's best friend!

On the other hand, those newfangled liberals that seemed to be cropping up everywhere - like weeds, the old families often said - could not complain either. For Dumbledore fit right in with their principles, or, at least, he didn't go against them. Even though he had a title and a family history, he never spoke out in public against Muggle-borns or Half-bloods like the patriarchs of the other great families. And that suited the liberals just fine. As long as non-Purebloods weren't being persecuted, they would take their victories as they came.

One could almost say Dumbledore was almost boring. Gossipy wives were never satisfied, for there was never even a hint of scandal surrounding the Minister. He was faithful to his wife - granted, she was a beautiful woman - and didn't do anything embarrassing, such as getting drunk at Ministry functions, like Salazar Gaunt did. Dumbledore had three children, who he was perfectly normal with: no abuse, which would have sent tongues wagging, nor spoiling, which also would have sent those same tongues wagging.

His eldest, a daughter named Margaret, was a comely girl of eleven who had just started her first year at Hogwarts. Like many other children from the great families, she had been Sorted into Slytherin. Some desperate gossips said that her ambition was wasted on a girl, but no one ever took them seriously. Margaret was perfectly respectable and brought no shame unto her family.

The Minister's youngest, a son named Aberforth, was also respectable. He was eight years old, and already, he was trusted to not embarrass himself at the parties he was allowed to attend. He could be a little impatient and petty at times, but that was to be expected in someone so young. He and his sister both resembled their mother, with dark hair, pale, well-shaped features, and pleasant hazel eyes.

No, it was the middle child who attracted the gossips the most. Under family tradition, he had been given a long name, in hopes that he would one day live up to it. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was nine years old. He was handsome enough, but he had his father's auburn hair, and everyone knew someone with red hair could never really be attractive. His eyes, also like his father's, were a startling blue, though not yet hidden behind spectacles like his father's were, though it was only a matter of time. He liked to read, mostly, and he usually kept to himself in the family library. From these books he presumably got all his strange ideas, like learning Mermish - no point, since everyone knew merpeople weren't even worth talking to, since they weren't human - talking to vampires - disgusting half-breeds; why did the German Minister always insist on bringing his vampire aide everywhere in England? - and abolishing the wizarding nobility - stupid boy, didn't he know he was in line for a title himself?

Luckily, and this saved young Albus's reputation, he tried hard to please his father. After the embarrassing vampire situation, Albus never left his father's side at functions, ever. He never tried to speak Mermish or any other strange language in the presence of others, though he might have done so once or twice in private just to see if he still had the ability. The gossips quieted after that, though most people still agreed the elder Dumbledore son was a tad strange, as what normal boy sat inside and read all day? Why, his own brother could be seen at all times of the day, gawking at the brooms in Diagon Alley like any other normal wizarding boy.

Currently, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, future Lord Dumbledore and patriarch of the Dumbledore family, or Percy, as most people called him, was fidgeting in the new dress robes his mother had ordered. They were slightly too big for him.

It was the twenty-third of December, in the year 1866. A light flurry of snow was falling from the night sky, blanketing the older snow from a big storm three days before. The Dumbledores' townhouse was filled with the members of magical Britain's great families, for no one dared miss Lord and Lady Dumbledore's annual Christmas party. It was always the place to be two days before Christmas.

"I say, Dumbledore, Catherine has outdone herself this year," said Lord Black, with an admiring wink at Lady Dumbledore. She blushed. Black was a well-known rake, but he had every right to be, as he was easily the most handsome man in the house.

"Yes, she always works very hard to get things just right," agreed Dumbledore. "And this year, Margaret helped her mother."

Margaret blushed but looked pleased. Black smiled down at her and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Orion Black was thirteen and already shaping up to be as good-looking as his father. "Admirable," murmured Black, smiling down at the girl. "Do you not think so, Orion?"

"Yes, Father," said Orion, giving Margaret a small smile. She turned, if possible, redder, then excused herself hastily.

"A charming girl," said Black.

Dumbledore nodded. He glared at his older son. "Percy, stop that infernal fidgeting; it's getting quite annoying seeing you wriggling in the corner of my eye."

"Yes, Father," replied Percy obediently, ceasing at once.

After a short pause, Dumbledore sighed and said, "Well? Aren't you going to say hello?"

"Hello, Lord Black," said Percy promptly. "Orion."

"A pleasure to see you again, Percy Dumbledore." Black bowed, a slightly impatient gleam in his eye now that he was talking with the less accomplished sibling. "Is your brother here as well?"

"Yes, sir. He's talking to Lord Malfoy."

"Father, may I go talk to Reginald Prewett? He's right over there," asked Orion, with a bored look at Percy.

"Your time is better spent with others," replied his father, though he too gave Percy a glance of distaste. Percy looked down at his shoes. Even he knew that everyone thought he was a strange child, that he would amount to no good, except for maybe following his younger brother, who everyone believed was a natural leader. Percy had become accustomed to the fact and never complained, for complaining would bring even more disapproval.

"Please, Father?"

"Fine," said Black. "But only to exchange greetings. The Prewetts are liberals." He said the word "liberals" as if it was a dreadful swearword. Orion nodded, pleased, then walked off. "Not only are those liberals not satisfied with the fact that Mudbloods can attend Hogwarts, they want equal rights as well for those... things."

"Careful, Scorpio," said Dumbledore mildly. "There are ears all around us."

Black calmed down. "Forgive me, Edward. I forgot myself. We shall discuss the, ah, topic in a more private meeting."

Although his father never said anything in public, Percy knew that he privately supported the conservative old families over the liberals, who were fighting for equal job opportunities for Muggle-born wizards. Some were radical enough to demand that witches receive more opportunities in the Ministry. Percy actually thought it was rather logical; after all, Margaret was well suited for a high up office in the government, but as she was a girl, she was expected to marry well and support her husband in his endeavors. But he didn't dare tell his father about his true thoughts.

A tall man with pale features and white-blond hair approached the Dumbledores and Lord Black, his family in tow. "Dumbledore," said the man, sweeping an elegant bow. "Always a pleasure. And Black. And of course... your lovely wife."

"Octavian," replied Dumbledore, smiling slightly. "How go your ventures in India?"

"Quite well, quite well," said the man called Octavian. "The Muggle Queen is pleased with the profits. Not that she knows that I've been taking half the profits and hiding it from her. Muggles... can't see what's in front of them." The three men laughed.

"Lord Malfoy, will you be in England long?" asked Lady Dumbledore.

"Yes, I do believe we plan on staying in Wiltshire from now on," said Lord Malfoy, otherwise known as Octavian. "Vespasian is starting at Hogwarts in September, and dear Lucia can't stand to be on a different continent from our son." He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Vespasian Malfoy looked just like his father, down to the arrogant smirk. "Dear Alexandra adores her brother as well."

"Alexandra is growing up beautifully, Lady Malfoy," said Lady Dumbledore. It was true. The eight-year-old Alexandra Malfoy was a delicate-looking girl with her family's white-blond hair and very light eyes.

"Thank you," replied Lady Malfoy.

"Is this your son, Edward?" asked Malfoy, watching Percy curiously. "I don't believe I have ever met him."

"Yes, this is Albus," said Dumbledore wearily. "My elder son."

"Ah. Pleasure, Albus Dumbledore." Malfoy bowed again. Percy grinned; it was nice having someone be polite to him. "This is my son, Vespasian, and my daughter, Alexandra. Perhaps you would like to show them around?"

"Albus doesn't like--" began Dumbledore, but Malfoy interrupted him.

"I'm sure they'll have a wonderful time. Don't be so stuffy, Edward." He smiled indulgently at the children. Percy beamed and led the Malfoy children away. He rarely got to talk to the other children, since his father thought he would embarrass himself and the family if he did so.

"Do you like Quidditch?" asked Vespasian.

Percy thought for a moment. "That's the game where people fly about on broomsticks and throw balls at each other, isn't it?"

Vespasian blinked. "Er, yes, it is," he said, staring at the other boy strangely.

"No," continued Percy, his voice airy. "I find it a little dull compared to Ptolemy's works of literature."

"Dull?" The Malfoy boy looked shocked.

"Yes, have you read Ptolemy at all?" asked Percy, rolling his eyes. "Anyone who's done so ought to know that nothing could be more interesting. Except possibly Hogwarts, a History. I can't wait to go there, can you?"

Vespasian didn't honor him with a response. He only gaped.

"I want to go to Hogwarts," piped up Alexandra. "But I can't, not for three more years."

"Want to know a secret?" Percy had mistaken Vespasian's look of total confusion for one of awe. "I can speak Mermish." He let out a series of screeches. "Don't tell Father I did that, though."

Vespasian was definitely edging away now.

"Do you want to learn too? I can teach you the Mermish word for 'hello.' It's--"

"No thanks," interrupted Vespasian hurriedly.

"I want to learn Mermish," said Alexandra, scowling at her brother.

"There's no need," snapped the Malfoy boy coldly. He sneered at Percy, whose smile faltered as he realized he must have done something wrong. "I want to go back to Father and Mother."

"But..." said Percy, feeling rather hurt. This had happened the last time his father had allowed him to talk to other children too.

"Dumbledore, a pleasure." Vespasian nodded curtly, took his sister's hand, and strode away.

Percy was left alone in the empty corridor outside the library. Slowly, he made his way inside his sanctuary and sat down mutely on one of the chairs, staring off into space. It was in this state that his father found him hours later, after all the guests had left.

Dumbledore watched his son for a long time, mouth in a tight frown. Percy just stared at his knees, unable to look up at his father's face. "I'm highly disappointed," said Dumbledore, finally. "You have embarrassed the family and yourself greatly tonight... again."

Percy closed his eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. He hated it when his father was disappointed. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he always ended up doing something stupid and foolish, even though he never knew what it was he did wrong. "I'm sorry, Father," he whimpered. "I tried not to do it."

"You're not trying hard enough!" snarled Dumbledore suddenly. Percy could see the hem of his cloak swishing impressively. He began to pace. "It is time," he continued in a softer and gentler voice, "that I help you more. I had hoped you would grow out of your abnormal ways, but clearly, that will not happen without intervention."

A tear escaped from under Percy's eyelid.

"You are the future Lord Dumbledore, and I cannot have people saying that our family is headed by a half-wit."

If there was one thing Percy could not stand, it was being called stupid. Although it rarely showed, he had an enormous streak of pride. "I am not stupid!" he cried.

"No, you are not," replied his father harshly. "At least not intelligence-wise. Yet you completely lack the sense required to live a normal, scandal-free life." He stopped pacing and sighed. "But someone who spouts out what you do, that rubbish, can only be seen as a half-wit by society." He put a hand on his son's shoulder. "I must teach you to be respectable, one way or another. By the time you go off to school, you must be completely normal."

"Yes, Father," whispered Percy, having lost the battle against the onslaught of tears.

"Your promises are not enough." Percy looked up. Dumbledore seemed to be contemplating something. "In the next two years," he continued, "you will not be allowed in this library." Percy gasped. "You will only read the books that I pick out for you. You will associate with suitable companions - both Lord Malfoy and Lord Black's sons are young enough to forget your... strangeness over time - and you will be severely punished should you ever mention things like Mermish and Mudblood rights, is that understood? I will help you find the distinctions between proper and improper conversations for young boys such as yourself."

Percy nodded fervently. He wanted so much to please his father like Margaret and Aberforth did, and he was glad for the opportunity to do so, never mind the fact that he would be losing his books.

"Good." Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder, and Percy smiled bleakly. "I don't expect you to become a sportsman or even very sociable," he said gently. "Though if you did, I would be quite pleased. I just want the best for you."

"I know, Father."