Find Him

FIND HIM

Harry Potter had first been found in what was left of James and Lily's cottage in Godric's Hollow. For Albus Dumbledore, a man over the age of 150, that day seemed so long ago now, that day when he had made the crucial decision to entrust the now parentless baby into the care of his Aunt and Uncle. Slowly walking through the empty, echoing halls of Hogwarts Castle - the soft tap, tap of his cane on the bare floors the only sound - Albus found himself thinking about that choice he made over sixteen years ago, and he kept asking himself, "Was that the right decision?" No matter how often he asked it, and no matter how many times he pondered on the years of neglect young Harry had endured growing up, he always came to the same conclusion: it was the right thing to do. Especially now, when it was all finally over.

As soon as Severus had spoken the password and walked up to his office that much was clear. The Potions Master had only to point at his bare forearm, the forearm where the Dark Mark had until today been brutally branded into the skin, and all was known. The Dark Lord was dead. Harry Potter had triumphed. But was he to survive his victory, because the young man known as the Boy-Who-Lived was nowhere to be found?

As he walked slowly up to the Owlery, the venerable old Headmaster mused to himself that it wasn't often that he was left in the dark, but now was such a case. His protégé had vanished from the school grounds last Friday afternoon and almost a week later there was still nothing to add to his disappearance. Only that somehow he had found and faced his nemesis for a final time and had come out the victor. But at what price? Had he sacrificed his own life so that everyone else could live? Was he alone in the wilderness somewhere, far from aid, his life ebbing slowly away? Or had he just up and left, turned his back on the world he had re-entered over seven years ago? No. Albus was adamant that Harry would not do such a thing. He was too strong, too noble to abandon his friends. He needed them. He needed them to find him.

Harry had left for them, Albus was sure. He would not have gone for himself, nor for revenge for Sirius, or for his parents - Harry was not a vindictive person. No, he had gone because it was just the right thing to do; to give everyone else the best chance of survival by not having them present at the final, climactic battle, a battle that Albus had never doubted that Harry would emerge from victorious.

The old man stopped for a moment to catch his breath. No, he was lying - there was always that tiny seed of doubt in his mind that Tom Riddle had become too powerful for anyone to overcome. He had feared during those ten years between that fateful Halloween and young Harry's arrival at Hogwarts that if the killing curse hadn't destroyed the Dark Lord, nothing could. But his doubts had slowly ebbed away as this tiny, scrawny, dishevelled young boy began to grow into the man he would become, as he began to find the strength within that would carry him through the task that fate had so clearly laid upon his head. Albus had watched Harry from afar, had seen him show the increasing signs of the truly great wizard that he would undoubtedly become. Entering the chamber down in the depths of the castle seven years ago he had been shocked at what he saw: this tiny little boy hanging on for dear life, using the protection his mother had given him to ward off Voldemort once more, refusing to lie down and die. He was 11 years old and showed no fear, or at least he had instinctively learnt to master it, as fear must be. This shy, reserved young man had stood alone in protecting the Philosopher's Stone and he had succeeded. Albus knew at that point, when the once mighty Lord Voldemort fled from the broken body of the naïve Quirinus Quirrel, that Harry had found his strength and that he would never lose, that Harry did not believe in failure.

Seeing Harry stand limply before Tom Riddle in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic had disturbed him though. Albus had come to the sudden realisation that his unshakeable belief in the Prophecy was no longer a protection as it had been while Riddle remained powerless; he had found out that night that his faith in Harry could easily be deemed irrational. Tom had been within a second of achieving immortality and it was simply because Harry was not ready, because he had not been prepared. Albus had found his weakness that night: his heart.

He was not going to make the same mistake again. He was not going to allow his feelings to get in the way any longer, or to cloud his judgement. He was never going to gift Tom such an easy path to victory ever again. Upon Harry's arrival for his sixth year the young man had immediately began to undergo extensive training and preparation. Once they had rebuilt the bridge between them, Albus had been stunned at his protégé's progress; Harry was nothing short of extraordinary - the power in his spells once he had learnt to focus his emotions into them was nothing short of astonishing for a sixteen year old student; his instinctive reaction times were uncanny, beyond compare. Suddenly Albus realised that once Harry put his mind to something he was not only a quick learner, he was simply unstoppable.

It was fortunate the young man was too because it was just over a year ago now when Tom had ambushed Harry in Hogsmeade in full force. Luckily he himself had been on hand to challenge Tom, but age and time - those perennial stalkers - had finally caught up with and found this old, old man. Harry had bravely duelled with Tom for several moments before he arrived, but Albus for once had decided to not rely on the Prophecy. He had put his trust and faith into its words for so long; for too long, he thought. He had been found out as foolish and hasty to believe that a few sentences from the lips of Sybil Trelawney could mean so much. Albus had challenged fate in the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade and had intervened, entering the fray with the direct intent to destroy Tom Riddle once and for all. It was a decision that nearly cost him his life. The two of them - master and pupil - fought against Tom together, but it was clear to all three parties that the master, Albus Dumbledore, was no longer the most powerful wizard in the world, that for some inexplicable reason he was beginning to struggle in the duel. It was as if fate itself was thinning his thread that day, pulling him back from a contest in which he did not belong anymore, punishing him for his impudence, for his nerve to challenge what was written.

He had almost died that day. As his magical shields faltered under the sheer weight of the Dark Lord's spells, the Boy-Who-Lived had taken the fateful decision to stand in front of him and face his nemesis alone. It was, however, a decision that was made a split second too late because Albus had been struck with a curse that threw him backwards through the air with such force that when he landed the impact nearly broke his body in two.

He had to pause once more to catch his breath as he headed up yet another flight of stairs. He had never fully recovered - as testified by the cane he still had to use to walk with. Harry though didn't need time to recover that day, not physically at least. He had found the power to force the Dark Lord back. In his own words he had been lucky, but Albus did not believe in luck. Harry was well aware of Tom's weaknesses and had taken advantage of one of them. Harry had found his true power a year ago. Yet, even though Tom had been stabbed through the chest with Godric Gryfinndor's sword it still wasn't enough to kill him. Albus had been told by several eyewitnesses that Harry had used such force that he had driven it right through up to the hilt, and then pulled it out just as quickly, but Tom still hadn't died - he had used a Portkey to escape just in time; he had 'fled with one almigh'y hole in his stomach', Hagrid had so eloquently informed him. What Harry had done was enough though; he had been around to 'save the day' once more.

And now he had done it yet again. This young man had apparently decided that enough was enough, that he would not allow another innocent to die while he hid within the safety of the castle, and so he had gone out to find Tom and destroy him. It had worked. He had been reckless, foolhardy as always, but this time Harry had the capability to not just rely on fortune alone - he had found his courage at 11, he had found his true strength over the last seven years, and Albus now found that Harry had won.

That win was not going to be for nothing though. More than anyone this young, much maligned man deserved to live, and Albus was determined to give it to him. He deserved to find happiness and joy, he deserved to find everything that had been starved from him all of his seventeen years. Today Albus Dumbledore prayed that Harry Potter would be found so that he could get what he had fought so hard for, and there was only one that could find him now.

He opened the door to the Owlery gingerly; his ascent up to the top of the tower had weakened him considerably, his breaths rasping in and out of his tired lungs. He stopped momentarily with his hands upon his knees to try and recuperate. There had been an uncountable number of days when all he would do was walk serenely around the corridors and hallways of the castle, or pace up and down his study continuously. Those days were behind him now. There weren't too many left before him either.

Slowly he straightened his back with a grunt and searched around for who he was looking for. It didn't take long to find her - it was hard not to notice such a distinctive owl. She stood proud and elegant on one of the perches above him, but once they made eye contact she swooped low and landed before him, softly cuffing him on the forearm with her wing as she swept past. She remained stoically still on her new perch as Albus smiled thinly and regarded her for a moment or two. Hagrid had made a good choice. She was so calm, so focused upon her one task: to serve her master. Yes indeed, Hagrid had found a brilliantly white gem in Diagon Alley on Harry's birthday - so graceful, and at times apparently as stubborn as a mule, but most of all Albus could clearly see intelligence in her large, round eyes. It was as if she already knew what was going to be asked of her, that she was never going to be given a task as important as this one.

Finally Albus stepped forward and began to stroke her feathers slowly, respectfully with his left hand. He kept his eyes focused upon hers momentarily before he drew his wand and pointed it towards her midriff. He placed a tracking charm upon her and then softly patted her head.

No words needed to be spoken. Albus knew that she was well aware of what was being asked of her. She gently nipped his ear with her beak and then flew out of the window without a glance back; and as Albus watched her take flight, he knew that just like her master she would succeed, that she simply did not believe in failure.

As he stood to look upon the first flickers of light appearing upon the horizon between the Highland hills, Albus knew he would not see such sights for much longer. He had lived a long and fruitful life and wasn't sad now that he knew his time was winding down. He had decided to announce his retirement before the year's end, but first he wanted to tell Harry. He just wanted to tell the student he regarded as family that he could not be prouder of the man he had seen before him these last few months, that he now knew that in Harry's hands society could be protected from the Tom Riddle's of the world. Albus was too old and weary to do it any longer, but Harry was now ready to take on this challenge, and to find the happiness that life can bring. Which is why Albus' voice was firm and resolute when he spoke words to himself that echoed into the darkness of the Owlery behind him, words he prayed with all the broken strength he had left would come true:

"Find him Hedwig."