Repeated Meetings

Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.

"Sir?" Harry asked after a moment's pause where they both simply stared at one another. His voice was calm but his hands gripped the arm of the chair he sat in so tightly that they were white.

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, looking older and wearier by the minute.

"May I be excused?" Harry asked, still looking the old headmaster straight in the eye.

"Of course," Dumbledore said softly, eyes sparkling a little with unshed tears, easily held back through years of practice.

Harry nodded once and stood in one motion and walked, not swiftly but quick all the same, to the door and this time it opened. He turned the doorknob and left, not looking back.

Dumbledore watched him go and once the door closed with a soft click, he buried his head in his hands, closing his eyes and waiting though no tears actually fell.

"From what I've seen and heard the past couple of years," said Dilys quietly from her portrait, "the boy is as strong as his father- if not more so! He'll be fine."

"That boy is our last hope," Dumbledore muttered up at the portraits. "The fault will be mine if he falls."

The past headmasters and headmistresses simply looked on, not quite sure what to say or do for only once had they seen the headmaster is such a state. It had been almost sixteen years ago on the night that Voldemort had fallen the first time.

"He is so like James, if I remember him correctly," Dilys continued, trying to ease Dumbledore's pain a bit.

"Exactly like James," Dumbledore agreed softly.

"You see yourself in him," Armando Dippet said from behind him, gazing own at the shattered silver trinkets on the floor. "That's why it hurts so badly. You don't want him to make the same mistakes."

"Am I that predictable?" Dumbledore murmured softly, chuckling a bit. He sighed and looked down at his interlocked fingers. "Yes, he is."

********

January 1, 1945

The street was deserted save for an auburn-haired older man and a young woman who walked along on the cracked sidewalk. Every house that still stood alongside the once busy boulevard had been emptied after the muggle air raid had attacked the small town. If you looked carefully, you could still see the devastation of children screaming as they searched for their parents, bombs falling all around them; the shrieks and cries of those who could not get away quick enough, falling to the ground, eyes wide and blank with death; the trampling of innocents as pushing and shoving to get to the nearest shelter from the explosions.

The stench of Death still clung in the air as the man and woman continued to walk, careful to avoid the ruble that was a demolished home. Only three houses still stood on this block and as they stopped in front of the door of the middle one, the man stopped and put his hands on the woman's shoulders.

"I want you to get back to headquarters, Minerva," he said firmly but quietly.

"No!" said the woman, Minerva, defiantly. "I'm staying with you."

"I will not take you into any kind of danger," the man said with a tone of no-nonsense. "It is an order."

"You shouldn't go alone!" Minerva pleaded with her mentor. "You could die, Dumbledore!"

"Better me than you," Dumbledore said softly shuffled in his robe pockets for a handkerchief. He brought the cloth and dabbed at Minerva's eyes that were steadily leaking with tears now.

"I need you to fetch the Auror's, Minerva," Dumbledore said with force behind his voice. "I know Grindelwald is here and this may be our last chance to defeat him once and for all. Do this," he said, softer this time, "for me."

"You have to promise me you'll be alright," Minerva said, voice shaking as she stared him in the eye. "I want your word!"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something then closed it. "I promise," he said. "Now go quickly," he murmured, touching her cheek.

"Be careful, Albus," Minerva said, his handkerchief grasped firmly in her hands and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him gently on the cheek. She stepped back and did her best to give him a smile before she disappeared with a pop, leaving him standing alone in the silent and dismantled street.

A sad shadow over his eyes as he watched her Disapparate. He gave a quiet sigh before turning to the dissolute house and opening the door with a small creak.

His hand grasped his wand tightly as he made his way through the lightly damaged hallway. Only a few items were astray as its inhabitants hurried to get away from the bombing. He wondered briefly if the family had gotten away to safety or had suffered the torment of death like so many others had. He paused at the door that lead to the basement before taking in his breath and pushing the door open, then descending the steps.

The room was large and quiet, not to mention dark. Dumbledore could make out very little save the man who was standing across the room opposite him, back turned and staring at the wall.

"Dumbledore," said the figure quietly in its low voice, acknowledging that he knew of the man's presence.

"Grindelwald," Dumbledore said, holding his wand more firmly in his hand. Neither spoke as Grindelwald turned slowly to face his adversary. His dark eyes connected with Dumbledore's for a moment before he sprang.

Dumbledore disappeared from his spot as a flash of green light illuminated the place where he had just stood. He reappeared behind Grindelwald who turned sharply and jumped, nearly avoiding the jet of red light emanating from Dumbledore's wand. He disappeared with a swish of his robes and reappearing across the room to Dumbledore's left.

They continue like this for some time, disappearing and reappearing behind their enemy, trying to gain the upper hand. At last, when both began to feel exhaustion on the edge of their minds, Dumbledore's moment came. As Grindelwald raised his wand, Dumbledore flung himself to the right and shot a jet of blinding white light enveloped Grindelwald. When the dust finally settled, Dumbledore peered with eyes full of pity at the form that lay on the floor.

Grindelwald was dead.

There was a pounding on the floor above him and the slamming of the door as it flung back on its hinges and hit the wall. There was the stomping of many feet rushing down the stairs as the Aurors rushed in the basement, shock evident in their faces as they saw the body of Grindelwald and the tall figure of Dumbledore standing over it and then they knew.

Dumbledore felt something attack him as he stared at the Aurors and looked down at the sobbing young woman in his arms. Tears rolling down her face, Minerva's hair was tousled and her cheeks were a bright red as she cried, face buried in his shoulder. He simply held onto her as she wept and when her tears finally stopped.

"I did promise," he muttered softly into her dark hair and he could feel her smile.

********

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said as the sun shone brightly into his office, signaling the start of another day.

~*~*~*~*~

"Did you know too? Did you know I was Gryffindor's heir? You said you told me everything!" Harry yelled at Dumbledore, pacing back and forth across the office. Dumbledore stood in the corner, just watching as Harry went on his tirade. "First Sirius- now Hermione! Who's next, Dumbledore? Who's next to suffer because of me and my hidden secrets?"

"Keeping it from you kept your powers asleep," Dumbledore explained calmly, "until you were able to handle them."

"So you don't think I can handle them?" Harry asked, temper so high he felt ready to burst.

"No, I don't," Dumbledore said simply and Harry fell silent at once, staring at the old headmaster in surprise. "And neither was your father."

"What?" Harry asked, eyes wide as Dumbledore crossed the room and sat behind his desk, making the déjà vu seem even more real as Harry sat down opposite him and continued to stare in shock. "What about my father?"

"His response was very similar to yours now when I sat here looking at him, where you sit now, and telling him of his heritage," Dumbledore went on, not breaking eye contact with Harry. "The situations were the same as well, when someone he cared for was taken captive."

"Who?" Harry asked all his attention now on Dumbledore, his anger evaporating.

"Your mother."

********

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening," Seventeen year old James Potter kept murmuring as he paced the length of the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, the moonlight, half full, fell across his silver beard, enhancing his solemn features. "This can't be happening."

"Madame Pomfrey is doing what she can for Lily, James," Dumbledore said, trying to reassure his pupil. James reacted exactly as he had expected.

"That's not good enough!" James yelled, rounding on Dumbledore. "If you would have told me, I could have protected her! Now look! She's laying in a coma in the Infirmary!" He ran a hand through his unruly hair angrily and turned to look out at the night's sky with a humph. "Some protector I am," he said, gazing at his own reflection with fury.

"You managed to get yourself and Miss Evans out of the building alive," Dumbledore stated calmly though his eyes were sad. "Lily would not want you to blame yourself."

"I know," said James resignedly sitting opposite Dumbledore. "I just care about her- no, I love her." James chuckled. "When did that happen?"

"Love sneaks up on us when we least expect it," Dumbledore said with a tiny smile then became serious. "You are the last of Gryffindor's blood line. There is no other."

"I know," James said with a sigh, resting his head on the back of the armchair. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I didn't think you were ready. You did not have the maturity-"

"That's undisputable," James added lightly.

"- nor the resilience to accept and control your powers."

"So what happens now?" James asked as Dumbledore got up and walked towards the window.

"The future is what you make it, James," Dumbledore said as James watched his mentor peer out over the darkened Forest. "Unfortnutely, war is inevitable only you can decide how it will end." There came a pounding up the stone stairs and both James and Dumbledore turned to see Sirius, panting, in the doorway.

"She's awake!" he cried and was nearly bowled over as James swept out the door.

********

"But his powers weren't good enough," Harry said sharply, head resting on the back of his armchair, like his father had done.

"His powers were not the same as yours or the Prophesy," Dumbledore explained.

"For some reason," Harry said his anger now gone replaced with complete weariness, "I feel old."

"If you feel old," Dumbledore said lightheartedly, a small twinkle reappearing in his eyes, "the I must be ancient."

Harry looked appalled. "I didn't mean..." He began but was silenced by Dumbledore's hand.

"I know, Harry, I know," he said simply sitting back in his chair as well and waiting.

After a few moments, Harry spoke. "I'm sorry for my behavior, Professor," he said, head bowed. "It's just hard. I- I- I just can't do it alone."

"You alone have the power to do this," Dumbledore said firmly but reassuringly. "Believe like so many others do: like I do in you." Harry looked up and managed to give Dumbledore a small smile, making him look younger, before here came a knock on the door and it opened slowly to reveal a very exhausted, but very happy, Mrs. Weasley.

"She's awake," she said and Harry gave Dumbledore a swift look, where he nodded, and Harry took off out the door and down the stairs in ten seconds.

"History tends to repeat itself," Dumbledore said informatively at the questioning look from the woman as he stood and walked with Mrs. Weasley to the door, both making their way towards the Hospital Wing.

~*~*~*~*~

"He did it! He did it!" Ron cried as he came running through the Great Hall door meeting an extreme amount of applause. The ceiling shook at the cheers that came as Harry Potter, bleeding but still in one piece, walked through the door, still the Boy Who Lived. Every single Weasley (all of them had survived the war) rushed over and there was many hugs as Dumbledore stood at the Top Table, simply watching at the displays before him.

"Albus?" came a voice behind him and he looked down as Minerva fell into place beside him.

"It's over," Albus said to her as he watched Hermione approach Harry and throw her arms around him, kissing him with all her might. He couldn't help but smile as he returned it fully.

"Ever again?" she muttered, watching him intently.

"My dear professor," Dumbledore said turning to her, with eyes that she had feared, in the past months, had lost their jovial twinkle, "I would do it over and over again to have an ending such as this!" She said nothing but the smile, so rare to ever grace her lips especially as of late, told him everything. Her hand fell into his and they watched as Harry was hoisted on Fred and George's shoulders and brought towards them. The hall fell silent as Harry's feet touched the ground in front of them.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, not releasing McGonagall's hand but holding out his other for Harry to shake.

He did not hesitate and shook Dumbledore's hand as the hall erupted with cheers again. Hermione had squeezed through the crowd and was now clinging to Harry's hand, both mirroring McGonagall and Dumbledore, respectfully, as they smiled at their teachers.

"I have some more shocking news for you Harry," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "Even more than I have kept from you. I'm-"

"I know, sir," Harry said over the noise.

"Do you now?" Dumbledore said, smiling even wider and he could never have been more proud as his great grandchild smiled up at him.