Young(er) Albus and the War of the Worlds

Daily Prophet, Friday, April 13^th, 1945:

Grindelwald to Succeed??

It appears today, that Grindelwald

, the Dark wizard intent upon ruling the worlds, both Wizard and Muggle, may finally succeed, as news of the death of Franklin D. Roosevelt shocks the population.

Roosevelt, an Auror of 30 years, died, tragically yesterday, at the age of 63, of seemingly natural causes. It is said that his death heralds the certainty that Grindelwald will rise to power. Roosevelt, who had been masquerading as a Muggle, since his graduation from the U.S.A. (Unplottable School for Auror's), had achieved a status of power, known to Muggles as Presidency. He had been using this power, and his influence, to better the lives of the Muggles, protecting them from the threat of themselves. Roosevelt was believed to be the only obstacle in the way of Grindelwald's dream; that of destroying the Muggles and their world, so that he, along with a group of Dark Overlords can rule the entire planet.

The Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, that one of Britain's premier Wizard's, Armando Dippet, the Headmaster of our esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had journeyed over to the USA, to aid Roosevelt in the fight against Grindelwald. There is yet to be any confirmation of his arrival on those shores.

The man sighed, looking from one piece of paper to the other, his long fingers caught, momentarily in his auburn hair. His breath echoing around the circular room.

He spoke, as if to the dozens of identical portraits hung about the walls, his voice slightly shaking, "How could they have found out so quickly? This is not good, not good at all."

He looked up, hearing the door knock.

"Come in, Minerva." The door opened tentatively, and a tall witch, with a tightly drawn-back knot of ebony hair, peered around it.

"Oh, Albus," she exclaimed as she entered, and sat opposite the copper haired man. She was clutching a copy of that morning's Prophet to her bosom. "I'm so sorry. I know he was your friend." She searched his face, but knew better than to expect to find despair there. Dumbledore, she knew, believed that things happened so that other things could happen, and would except the death as a necessary occurrence.

Albus Dumbledore sighed again, "Yes…he was a dear friend. I used to visit him often in my youth." He smiled, and tiny dimples, along with deepening laughter lines, appeared on his face. "We were good friends. Did you know," here he turned his blue eyes to look into hers, "we were going to form a music band? We were going to call ourselves "Wizard", but in the end we decided that it wouldn't catch on."

"No, no I didn't Professor. What are you-"

"What am I going to do? Why go after Armando, of course." He said this as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Go after him?" she said, disbelieving. "But, what of the students, Albus? They've already been abandoned by Dippet, and at such a time as this, too. Surely," she went on, "Surely, you can't mean to leave them, too? Armando put you in charge. Who'll be there when you're gone, when," she looked at her copy of the newspaper, and quoted, "There is no confirmation of your arrival?!"

"You will, Minerva. And, you will have my complete faith to support you. And that of Professor Dippet." He pushed the second piece of paper that was on his desk, towards her, in an answer to her quizzical look, and motioned her to read. The man in all the portraits leaned over his frames, to look over her shoulder.

Dear Albus,

Contrary to what you may have heard, I have arrived in America, safe, and sound. But, alas, I'm afraid that poor Franklin has gone.

You have my condolences. However, there is not time enough to dwell on these things.

To get to the point, I need your help here, Albus. Grindelwald has taken advantage of an ambitious Muggle named Adolf, and is using him to destroy the Muggle world. With Franklin there, we may have stood a chance against him, but now, I'm afraid, you must fill the shoes meant for his feet. Come quickly, Albus, I shall meet you in Germany. You have my permission to leave Minerva McGonagall in charge. She is as capable as any, and will be able to keep up the wards I have protecting the school from gunfire, and the like.

Yours,

Armando Dippet

The witch passed the letter back to Dumbledore, and let out a heavy breath, "Well, I can't very well argue with that, I suppose."

"No. You can't." He smiled at her, as if the matter was final, the familiar twinkle back in his crystal blue eyes. The portraits nodded too, in agreement. One even went so far as to wag a finger in the witch's direction.

"You will be careful, won't you, Dumbledore?" she inquired, sounding, perhaps, a little more stern than she'd intended.

"Of course, I will. I just have one problem," he began to search the pockets of his robes, "I seem to have misplaced my floo-powder…"

*******

"I wouldn't normally ask, Rubeus. You know this…Lord knows I wouldn't want to get you into trouble. But these are extreme circumstances."

It was midday. It had taken Albus this long to find Hagrid, who'd taken up residence in a remote hut, just outside Hogsmead. Since his expulsion from Hogwarts five years before, disgraced, Rubeus Hagrid had pretty much kept to himself, apart from Dumbledore's visits, of course, which he always looked forward to. But not this visit.

"I dunno, Professor, I don' want no one ter take 'im away…yer might get seen." He was clearly distressed, torn between his unwavering loyalty to Dumbledore, and his devotion to his beloved animals. He stroked a fuzzy patch of hair on his chin, the beginnings of an adolescent beard, with his massive hand, his enormous bulk, all but dwarfing Albus.

"Hagrid, you have my word, that if anybody sees me riding the creature, I shall insist, that I found him, and enlisted his help," Albus assured him. "Of course I could always go and catch me a dragon…Might take a bit longer…"

"No, Professor. Dragons is dangerous when they're wild…best fer yer ter take Tiny, he's used ter people. I'll take yer to him," he sighed, picking up a pink umbrella, which had been leaning against a wall.

"Expecting rain, Rubeus?" quizzed Dumbledore, smiling so that his eyes danced playfully.

Hagrid looked away, and grunted in reply, and muttered, "Something like that, Headmaster."

And, with that he led Dumbledore down a beaten footpath, which led round to the back of the hut, and up a mountainside. They climbed the rocky track, which was slippery, and strewn with boulders, until they were half way up the mountain face, where they reached an opening. Here, Hagrid paused.

"Better that I go in first, Professor. He might not be in a good mood."

Dumbledore nodded, and watched as Hagrid clambered inside, his umbrella slung over his shoulder, like a hunter would carry a rifle.

Moments later, Hagrid's voice came echoing out from the darkness, "It's ok, Professor, yer can come in now…"

Albus stepped in, and took out his wand, "Lumos!" he said, and the cave in which he found himself, was suddenly filled with a warm light. He followed the winding tunnel round, and came out into an enormous chamber. This was almost entirely filled by the hulk of the biggest living creature Albus had ever seen.

The dragon was covered, from head to foot, in rough black scales, and had rather nasty looking ridges, running down the length of its spine. As if these weren't enough to deter any ambitious dragon slayers, the weighty arrowhead at the tip of its tail, would have more than persuaded them to back off. In fact, Albus conjectured, if anyone had stumbled into this dragon's home, accidentally, they wouldn't have had time to change their direction. It began to unfurl its gigantic, leathery wings, and a strong wind caught Albus' long auburn hair, streaming it behind him.

Hagrid, who was standing suicidally close in Dumbledore's opinion, whispered something in its ear, and it became calmer, folding its wings, and settling on the ground once more, tail curled around its body. It's eyes were half open, half closed, as Hagrid began to stroke its head, but Albus could see, in the light of his wand that they were they the colour of deep amethyst. It purred, almost contentedly, and Albus ventured to step closer.

"Tiny?!" he whispered to Hagrid, in a voice which quavered with the smallest hint of unease.

"He's not as fierce as he looks, Professor. He's just lonely…His owners, the MacFusty's, don't get back fer another month or so, an' he's missin' 'em terrible."

"Erm…if you say so," said Albus, uncertainly. "Well, we'll have to wait it out up here until nightfall, Rubeus, so you can fill me in on all the details of how this… magnificent…creature came to be in your care."

Now sure that he was not about to be toasted, Albus came to stand next to Hagrid, and used his wand to conjure a card table, and a couple of plates of sandwiches. The two men sat down, and began conversing, in the warm cave, accompanied by the soothing sound of a dragon asleep.

*******

The feeling was incredible, as Tiny's colossal wings beat furiously down on the night air. The world passed beneath them as a shadow, dark and blacked-out for the night. Through the veils of midnight cloud, Albus had long since stopped glimpsing the fluctuating landscape, and dark, sleeping villages, and was lucky, now, to see the occasional wave, as they flew on over the North Sea.

"This is the way to travel, eh, Tiny?" Albus shouted against the wind, as he struggled to keep his balance, whilst rummaging in his robes for any stray Muggle sweets. He found a half eaten bag of Barley Sugars, and popped one in his mouth, " I would offer you one, my friend, but I'm not sure how they would effect your breath."

The dragon nodded, as though he understood, and lurched as he did so, causing Dumbledore to grip the beast's neck even more tightly.

Day was breaking, and their cover was about to be lifted. They wouldn't last an hour without being seen with all those fangled Aeropains flitting about, thought Albus. He took out his wand, and pointing it at the creatures head, cried, "Absconus Luxio!"

At once, the dragon's muzzle began to disappear, as though the rising sun had an enormous eraser, and was blotting the creature out. Albus gave a little cry of delight as the spell worked its way down the long neck, and to his own body, at which point he too became "erased". He looked behind him, watching the dragon gradually disappearing, and thought it felt pretty strange to see nothing but the behind of a dragon upon which you were seated. The spell reached the huge arrow spear, that was Tiny's tail, just as the sun had come half way over the horizon, and Albus breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to watch out for stray aircraft.

The journey eventually began to take its toll on the enormous animal. So much so, that each time a whale swam close enough to the surface to be seen, Tiny licked his lips hungrily. Albus noticed this, and felt immediately guilty for having conjured a three-course meal to eat upon the dragon's back.

"There, there, Tiny," he said. "I promise to stop for food, as soon as we reach dry land."

The dragon turned his head, and snorted in reply, burning Albus' newly summoned steak dinner to a crisp.

"Good thing I like it well done," he grinned.

*******

Dumbledore peered through the grotesque iron gates of the military camp, completely unseen, despite the stubbornness of the Sun in setting. His nose wrinkled at the stench that hung on the air

They had flown for a long time, three days at least, and Albus thought it only fair, that as Tiny had carried him all this way, so he should carry Tiny, when they reached Germany. They had come to land near a river, where Tiny all but drained it of both fish and water, so famished was he. When he'd had his fill, Albus once again took out his wand, and pointed it at the dragon's head.

"Reducio Draconis!"

And, then, Tiny was…well, tiny. Dumbledore scooped him up into the palm of his hand, stroked him momentarily, and then popped him into the brim of his Wizarding hat.

So, now, not a person was aware, due to the "daylight concealment" spell, of the great Wizard's apparation into Camp Dachau, nor of the, usually gigantic, dragon that accompanied him. The prisoners, who were all labouring hard, continued their work, as if their lives depended on it, and indeed they did. Albus could see this from the cruel glint in the coal black eyes of the Commanding Officer, as his whip cracked and his voice boomed, in harsh German.

Albus rolled his invisible bright blue eyes, addressing Tiny, quietly, "What is it with these Muggles, and power? Mind you, some wizards I could mention have a far worse hunger for it." He sighed, surveying the tortured looks on the oppressed Muggles' faces. He been walking in this humid climate, for seven days, still none the wiser about where to find Dippet, and knew how worn down he felt. These poor people had been here for months, maybe more, toiling away. A tear crept down his cheek, as his heart ached for their freedom.

At once, he came to a decision. "We will free them, Tiny."

He took out his wand, once again, only this time he pointed it at his own throat, "Sonorus Advena Lingua!!"

The next time Albus spoke, his voice rang out, echoing through the entire complex of buildings, drowning out the cries of woe and despair, overpowering the shouts of cruelty and oppression. And, although he spoke in English, each and every man, woman, child in the camp, heard the words in their own tongue, and understood perfectly.

"Hear one, hear all! Even the Dunderheads wearing uniforms," Albus stifled a chuckle, as the Commanding Officer looked around frantically, a perfect blend of anger and terror, at the voice he could not see. For the most part, the prisoners looked up too, their faces blank, almost lifeless.

"NO MORE!" Albus called out, so that his amplified voice all but deafened the listeners. The camp fell deathly silent.

"No more killing here!"

"W-who are you? Who's th-there?" the German Officer stammered, his pistol drawn and still staring wildly about.

Only now it was Albus' turn to look about, for inspiration, then he remembered Tiny was on his head.

"I am the rider of winds," he said. The Officer gasped.

"I am the drinker of seas!" The Officer's face paled, and his bottom lip began to quiver.

"I am the scorcher of steak dinners!"

The Officer looked puzzled.

"But never mind that," said Albus, quickly. "What matters is that you do as I command or taste my…"

He paused, and the Officer finished the sentence, by silently mouthing the word "wrath".

"You are to gather up your fellow Germans here, and you are all to set about freeing your prisoners. Then you are to take the place of those prisoners, working yourselves as hard as you've worked them." He then gently prodded Tiny with the tip of his wand, and an almighty roar shattered the air.

There was a flurry of movement, and a great clattering of metal, as keys were hurriedly sorted, and chains and shackles were unbound.

Albus smiled to himself, and Tiny, and began to walk out of the camp, satisfied that the oppressors would be dealt with justly. "And to think," he said, after magically quieting his voice, "I was only threatening them with one of my homemade fudge brownies." He shrugged and laughed, strolling on to complete his mission.

*******

The corridor was deathly silent, as Albus rounded the corner, and stood facing the door. He already knew what to expect when he was on the other side, and could still not believe what his precognitory senses were telling him.

He stood, staring at the door, calculating the force it would take to unhinge the three inch thick steel structure of it, all the while his mind returning to the one thing he knew for sure to be true: that Walter, dear bumbling old Walter, was dead, and that he, Albus, had been baited.

This final acceptance proved too much, "To heck with calculations, no one tries to get one over on Albus Dumbledore!" And with that, he took out his wand, now fully visible, "Reducto!" he cried with all his might, and the door imploded, taking half of the surround with it.

The three men inside ducked immediately for cover, the unfortunate who'd been standing on the near side of the table, however, had no cover, and caught the full force of the impact. He slumped to the floor, his dark Nazi uniform splattered with his own life force. Albus' face paled as, when the dust settled, he realised what he'd done.

The other two men, one as young as the other was old, regarded Albus, coolly.

"Why, thank you Albus," sneered the latter. "Saved me doing it myself, the 'Furer' was rather beginning to annoy me. " At this the two Wizards cackled maniacally.

"Grindewald," Albus growled, "You truly are a monster. Only you could-"

"Oh, save your compliments, young Albus, they do embarrass me so."

Albus' eyes narrowed as he snarled at Grindelwald, bidding his time, until the next move was made.

"Of course, I can't take all the credit for this little venture," he clasped the shoulders of the youth, in an almost fatherly gesture, "Without Tom, here, poor old Professor Dippet wouldn't have been so easily duped. Master Riddle played his part so perfectly."

Albus shifted his steely gaze to the youth, disapprovingly, "Well, well, Tom Riddle. I did rather wonder where, and when I'd be meeting you next."

"Yes, Professor," Riddle responded, "You never did wholly buy my "Little Orphan Alone" routine, did you? Not like Dippy Dippet, who always fell for it hook, line, and stinker." He laughed again, an empty, metallic, quite inharmonious sound.

"Even before you left, I knew there was something you weren't letting on, Tom," said Albus, calmly.

"Did you, Dumbledore? Did you know how much? I should have had you disposed of when I had the chance," Tom snarled.

"Had the…?" A thought was dawning in Albus' mind, a memory was replaying, and a deep suspicion was being uprooted. A great injustice had, indeed, been done. "The Basilisk. It was you, Riddle, wasn't it? That poor girl, Tom, didn't you think about what you did to her? To her family?"

Neither Tom, nor Grindelwald, answered, instead allowing the broad grin that they were both wearing proudly to proclaim the truth.

"Lucky, wasn't it?" smirked Grindelwald, "That I happened upon my second just after he'd finished his schooling, his mind ripe for further corrupting." There was a hint of glee in his voice, his enjoyment more than apparent.

All this time, the three men had been standing on opposite sides of the room, not one moving, the enormous black desk, the buckled steel door, and lifeless form of Hitler, between them.

"So, now you have me here…" said Albus, not sure whether he was asking, or resigning to the fact.

"Well, I do," said Grindelwald, "Unfortunately, Lord Voldemort has a more pressing engagement."

Before his master had even finished, Tom had taken out his wand, and pointed it at himself. There was a brilliant flash, of pure white light, filling the entire room, Albus tried to cover his eyes, but he was too late. He was seeing spots.

"Tom, No!!" he cried, as he became aware of Riddle having vacated the room.

"Tom, no?" repeated Grindelwald, cruelly, as Albus heard the great weight of the door shift. "Tom, no? As if you could stop him...hehehe!"

Albus fumbled for his wand, still unable to see, but this time he was only almost too late. The bulk of the huge steel door was hurled at him, and he caught it full in the face, just as he erected a shield about his person. A searing pain shot up his nose, non-the less, and he was thrown backwards.

Albus lay crumpled against the wall of the out side corridor, unable to move from the force of his fall, unable to see from the blinding light cast by Voldemort's departure, all hope seemed lost, as he heard steady footfalls, his Wizarding hat disheveled on the floor beside his almost broken body. Grindelwald towered above him, cackling hysterically to himself.

"Two of you, three of my greatest opponents obliterated. This is too much…"

"Don't count your dragons, Grindelwald," struggled Albus, through gritted teeth.

"Excuse me?" the Dark Wizard faltered.

"Dragon's," replied Albus, "You forgot to count them."

"ENGORGIO!" He shouted, over Grindelwald's taunting voice, his wand pointing directly at his hat, and more importantly, at the 'tiny' figure that had rolled out of it moments before.

Tiny grew instantly, filling the corridor and beyond, until his skull crashed through the ceiling, causing it to cave in upon the unfortunate Dark Wizard, who collapsed, himself. The shock of suddenly coming face to face with a fully-grown Hebridean Black dragon, apparently, not enough, Grindelwald began to burble incoherently. Tiny shook his head, took a deep breath, and snorted, sending a shower of burning debris down on top of Grindelwald, whose last words, before he burned to death were, "Lord Voldemort Lives!"

*******

Albus sat for long while, after those words had faded, just watching the smouldering rubble, and contemplating the events of the past few days, and indeed, years. All those Muggles who died for this lost cause, because of this lost cause, Walter's death at the hands of, so-called, Lord Voldemort, and the death of his best friend Frankie.

He pondered what he now knew of the truth. The boy, who'd been wrongly blamed for the tragedy, those five years ago. The injustice he suffered for those allegations.

"I have to do something, Tiny," he sighed, "To at least make some of it right…"

Tiny nodded, it seemed.

"Grindelwald is dead, but it is the boy who still lives, Tiny. And, who knows where? But, he must be stopped. One day, he will be stopped."

An age passed by, it seemed, before the emergency S.D.O.T.* (Something Didn't Occur Today) team arrived, with the unenviable task of picking up the magical pieces. Afterall, it just wouldn't do to have a world full of Muggles believing that public enemy number one was killed by a twenty foot dragon, and an irate Wizard, would it? No doubt, they had some elaborate story with which to cover up any magical involvement, and of course, a truckload of memory charms for the escapees of Dachau, not to mention Hitler's men, most of whom had been wandering about aimlessly, in disbelief.

"What of Adolf Hitler?" Albus asked a passing S.D.O.T.* official.

"Well, a door bolt actually was driven straight through his skull, anyway. Looks just like he was shot. So, we don't have a lot of work to do there, just your basic tidy up of the collapsed roof, replace and lock the door, and we're done."

"Oh, I am glad," Albus replied. "Maybe it's time to go home, Tiny."

*******

Epilogue

*******

It is September now, and the newly appointed headmaster sits at the desk, in the, now empty, room.

It is a time for starting afresh, for both him, and the office. The portraits of dear Professor Dippet, gone, to be replaced soon, by the images of this, bespectacled, silver haired man. He smiles to himself, despite it all, as he writes, and the smile dances in his sky blue eyes, wrinkling his oddly bent nose.

Dear Mr. Rubeus Hagrid,

It has come to my attention, upon assuming my new position as headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, that the school is, in fact, lacking a Groundsman.

It has also been brought to my attention that you are possessed of certain expertise in the care of various beasts, and I feel that the position would suit you well.

Lodgings and meals will be provided, of course, if you were to take the position, on the school premises.

I propose we meet, say, tomorrow afternoon, at the Three Broomsticks to discuss the matter further.

(And, Rubeus, I won't take no for an answer! ;) )

Yours faithfully,

Albus Dumbledore

(Headmaster, Order of Merlin, Second Class)

*******