A Soulless Angel

My thanks again to Terra King for ironing out the details in this chapter.

Nurmengard Castle was located somewhere within the Austrian Alps. A grand castle, built on the orders of the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald, originally as a prison, it later served as the perfect base of operations. It was isolated in a remote area surrounded by hundreds of different ward schemes, based out in the heart of Europe with an operations room where the Dark Lord could communicate his orders while meeting with his lieutenants and acolytes, it was the perfect base for his plans.

And it was ironically the best place for where the Dark Lord could be imprisoned. In the topmost tower, Grindelwald came out of his occlumency-induced meditation, which was one of the few ways he had to keep sane. The German Ministry of Magic had been determined to make sure there was no way he could make use of the castle's facilities to try to contact someone to help him escape from his captivity.

They had not made the same mistakes that the MACUSA had with him. Grindelwald had been kept strictly alone, with no access to his library, or to any of the secret caverns and catacombs created in the building of the foundations of the castle. The guards were ordered not to even look at him or to speak to him for any reason in case he used his silver tongue, rusted with disuse now.

Grindelwald hated it.

He hated that he wasn't allowed to read even the most innocent book out of the library. He hated that he had to be locked in this tower for long periods (he was certain he had been merciful enough to either release, interrogate, and execute everyone who'd spent even a day here, but the German Ministry had kept him here for years). He wasn't even allowed to swim in one of the pools in the castle to help him relax, or even to give himself something to do to strengthen what was left of his bones.

Sometimes he wished Dumbledore had killed him, but if there was one thing he had learnt in the years where Albus had managed to break the blood pact, it was Albus didn't have the stones to kill him, never mind actually doing the dirty work himself. Grindelwald had needed to cope while Dumbledore had sent dozens of teams to weaken him, during the last months of the war which led to Dumbledore getting the drop on him.

All meals were portkeyed in, and the tray was portkeyed out.

It had been decades since he was allowed to make use of his magic, and so Grindelwald had made use of his impressive skills in the mind arts to forge his own entertainment. In his mind, he was able to relive old memories, play Quidditch games in his mind and even create alternative scenarios that he was aware were fake the whole time, and he was even able to recite old books and novels he had read over the years.

His years at Durmstrang before his expulsion; at the time he'd thought it rich they'd condemn him for his dangerous Dark Arts experiments when they taught them freely.

Meeting the Dumbledore family, feeling contempt for Aberforth and Ariana, his duel with his former lover before he'd left.

His rise to power.

Taking over the DMLE in the MACUSA as Percival Graves.

Meeting Newt Scamander, and forming a contempt for the man simply because Dumbledore favoured him over his lover.

That mess with the Obscurial.

His rallies.

The final years of his war while he manipulated Hitler (the mad muggle had started the Second World War, but Grindelwald had found it poetic to use the war for his own sick advantage).

Being chased by Dumbledore's pawns because Albus didn't have the stones for a fair fight.

The duel which ended in his defeat.

His trial and imprisonment here….

How many times had he gone through his brain, looked at each memory, and rewrote them according to some new twist?

Fortunately for his mental health, the German Ministry had been persuaded to let him read copies of newspapers, just so he would know what was going on.

As his mind snapped back into his body, a dinner tray appeared at the table. Grindelwald stood up, flinching; while he was a strong proponent for wizarding supremacy, there were times when even he felt living for a long time was not a nice thing. His bones ached, and while he was always tranquillised so then the healers came in to monitor and note his health wasn't brainwashed by him, there were so many health issues with his body, that he was amazed he had not yet surrendered to death.

Grindelwald found to his delight a small number of newspapers on the tray, and he put it to one side as he ate his simple meal and drank them down with a tankard of water, unrolling the old newspapers and gently spreading them around the table. He knew they were weeks out of date, but he didn't care, it would be enough to tell him what was happening with his brothers and sisters of magic. Besides, there were dozens of games and puzzles that he was allowed to do, and it would give him enough to keep his mind off of his situation.

He had barely taken a bite out of his meal when he saw the headlines that made him freeze for a moment.

Lord Voldemort was dead.

Grindelwald had been aware of the Dark Lord of Britain for a long time. Once the other Dark Wizard had tried rising to power on a much smaller but similar way to Grindelwald, but the British Ministry had stopped him in a violent attack that made Voldemort change his tactics, and take a more violent approach. In the same typical insular fashion that cursed all of their countrymen, the British wizards had deemed Voldemort as the worst Dark Lord in history.

Grindelwald didn't know whether to be insulted or not; he had led a massive uprising for decades, whereas all Voldemort had achieved was the loss of hundreds of magical lineages.

And for what?

He had been on the cusp of defeating the British Ministry, and he was making headway in launching small hit-and-run raids in Europe to determine how powerful their defences were, but Grindelwald had learnt enough of Europe since his own war to know that the other countries, not wanting another Dark Lord like him rising so quickly, had changed their tactics. Wards covered every square inch, and if any dark wizard moved around, they would need to be careful, especially if the Ministries spread information about the differing magical signatures of the dark wizards.

There was no doubt in Grindelwald's mind several Death Eaters (what a pathetic name for followers) had died as a result.

Voldemort had been close to winning, and then he had fallen to a baby, of all things, but Grindelwald was intelligent even in his weakened state to know there was more than luck present when Voldemort was banished in the presence of young Harry Potter. He doubted the boy had anything to do with the event, and he believed the boy's parents were responsible, but everything had Albus's fingerprints all over it. There was no doubt in Grindelwald's mind the Potters had been forced to remain in Britain. His old lover was so predictable; like Grindelwald, Albus loved being in control and hated it whenever someone tried to get out of it, especially if it hampered his plans in the long term, but Grindelwald had no idea why Voldemort would target the young family in the first place. He had a few ideas and theories, but he couldn't prove them.

Grindelwald had known of Voldemort's return for a while now, and he wasn't expecting the other Dark wizard to have fallen so soon. As he read the various articles with fascination, the old man learnt that Harry Potter, who'd been imprisoned for the past year in Azkaban prison (here, he flinched; while Nurmengard lacked Dementors, the conditions were largely the same, and he would not like to be in the teenage boy's place in that hell hole), had duelled Voldemort and ended his life.

As he studied the wizarding photograph of the whole event - Grindelwald wondered if the photograph had been plucked out of a pensieve, as it was extremely long and detailed, even in a loop - Grindelwald saw for himself, even in his severely malnourished, weakened state (if there was one thing he despised about magical justice, it was how wizards and witches treated their prisoners; they never treated them right and always left them in the most disgusting environments), Harry Potter had done a good job in defending himself before he then dealt with Voldemort long enough, even if the boy's physical limitations and the way he struggled, all of which made Grindelwald cringe and regard him with sympathy, especially the white hair (what the hell was in the boy's mind that would make the Dementors have that kind of effect?!), and then rejuvenated himself while performing some kind of spell on Voldemort's followers that had a profound, nasty effect on the Dark Lord that proved fatal to himself and to his followers.

The more he watched, the more convinced he was someone had plucked the memory out of a pensieve.

Grindelwald squinted at the battle, letting it play out over and over until it was imprinted firmly into his memory, becoming certain Voldemort had done something with his Dark Marks which he branded into the arms of his followers that linked them together.

But what really interested the German dark wizard the most were the other pictures which had been plucked out of a pensieve (he had suspected it before, now he was certain), showing the events of the last Triwizard Tournament - when he had learnt Albus had been behind the reformation of the Tournament, Grindelwald had wondered what he was doing since he knew Albus would have found something better than that dangerous game if he'd cared about building bridges - and the alternative history (he didn't know what else to call it) where Voldemort blood adopted young Potter, transforming the boy into a remorseless murderer on his side, and there were a few people fascinated Grindelwald - experts, although he wasn't sure if that was true since the wizarding world was not good at recognising liars - who had speculated Potter had not only just taken those thoughts from Voldemort's mind, but his memories and all of his magical knowledge. If so then everyone had to be careful with him.

Grindelwald rubbed his cheek thoughtfully, absently wondering what would have happened if he had ever met Voldemort in battle. While he was a skilled fighter and duellist, who used his impressive repertoire and control, he was genuinely uncertain if he could have won against someone like Harry Potter even at the height of his peak. But as he studied the young, dark, emotionless scowl Harry Potter was wearing, he wondered how much more the Potter family could take; several Potters had joined his army for varying reasons, and he had respected them greatly, as equally as he had respected those who had actively fought against him and then the entire British line had either vanished or died out.

Harry was the last of the branch, and Grindelwald wondered what was going to come next.

Inspiration sprang to his mind as he looked around his cell. He had a contingency plan in place; if he decided to simply live out what was left of his life, and then just die, then he would, but as he studied the images he wondered if there was a chance he could find a way of making use of Harry Potter. From what he could see, the boy was being treated with kid gloves, maybe he could take advantage of it.

Absently he touched the simple, flesh coloured metallic ring on his little finger….

-8-

He was in a three-way duel, fighting against his former lover, Gellert Grindelwald who was battling him and his brother, Aberforth, with the body of their little sister lying on the ground, still and unmoving.

Ariana, long since dead, sitting next to him and looking him in the eye, her beautiful face cold and rotting as she glared at him as he sat on the pew at her own funeral. "All your fault!" She and Aberforth spat at him.

Sensing movement next to him, Albus turned and saw Gellert staring at him with that solemn calm that the Dark wizard had always shown when proving a point. "Why do you create and unleash monsters?"

Suddenly he was in Wool's Orphanage, sitting opposite the young Tom Riddle, who was staring at him. "You had the chance to make a better life for me," Riddle accused him, "you chose to believe the muggles when you had the power to see what they did to me." Riddle tilted his head, "Are you so stunned I become the monster you thought I was?"

A baby started to cry, making Dumbledore turn around and he found himself standing outside the Potter's cottage at Godric's Hollow. Quickly he found himself running through the house, only to stop when he was confronted by James Potter, who was a rotting corpse now as well.

"Why did you make us stay? Why did you destroy my son's life!?" James shouted.

"I'm sorry, I am so sorry," Dumbledore stammered.

James's rotting face became more thoughtful, even as they both heard a scream upstairs. Dumbledore looked up in terror. "What was that?"

"My wife. She's about to die. You pushed us into this, knowing we would die, but we were expendable. You only wanted our child to be a weapon. Well," James laughed spitefully, stunning Dumbledore with how disturbed it was, "You got that okay. You'd better get up there, Dumbledore," James got out of the way, "I can't go. I'm dead already, you see. Go on, deal with the abomination you created. Be a man, for the first time in your damn life."

Valiantly hiding how disturbed he was by this vision, Dumbledore raced up the stairs, he barged into the nursery and found a tall black-robed figure firing a killing curse at Lily Potter, but while Lily screamed and fell to the ground, she didn't die instantly. She stared up at Dumbledore with contempt, even as the life drained from her once vibrant emerald green eyes. "You bastard! You condemned me and my husband to death, and turned my son into a merciless killer!"

And then she was dead.

Dumbledore was so shaken he didn't notice Voldemort walking towards Harry, who was screaming in his crib for his mother until it was nearly too late.

"STOP!" Dumbledore screamed. "Fight me! Leave him alone!"

Voldemort stopped, and he turned. When Dumbledore could see the face underneath the cowl, he recoiled in disbelieving horror. "No, it can't be," he whispered.

The face underneath wasn't Voldemort's at all, at any part of his life. Dumbledore had prided himself on being an expert on Voldemort, and he knew all of the Dark Lord's stages through life. This was not the child Tom Riddle, it wasn't Tom Riddle at all.

It was Harry Potter, but the Harry he was now, fresh from his time in Azkaban.

"Why can't it be?" Harry sneered, pushing some of his long white hair out of his face. "Isn't this what you wanted the whole time, Dumbledore?" Harry asked him, mocking him further with that fake child-like innocence he'd shown at Hogwarts, the same innocence that masked a mind sharper than a dragon's tooth.

Harry asked mockingly as he stared quizzically at Dumbledore, his eyes glinting with malevolent light. "You wanted me to become a murderer, a killer." Harry turned to the child him in the crib, and said, "Look at him, hard to believe it's me, right?" Harry turned and gazed at Albus coldly. "You self-righteous old fool; you took that innocent little kid, and you dropped him with abusive muggles," he spat the word, "and then you will subject him to so much pain. Are you even remotely surprised all of that has come down to this?" Harry gestured towards his long, black robes. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? It's all your fault, and you're only making it worse. But I can make it better." Swinging around, Harry levelled the wand at baby Harry's crying face.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"NO!" Dumbledore screamed, and he rushed forward…but he was just too late, a bright light exploded around him-.

-8-

Albus Dumbledore woke up, panting and shaking in horror. "Harry," he gasped before he looked around, waving his hand and summoning his glasses with just a thought. He noticed his hands shook as he slid them on and everything came into sharp focus. Waving his hand, he lit up the candles and walked to the window, grabbing his dressing gown as he did so, and peered out over the castle grounds.

He had been haunted by nightmares for decades; ever since Ariana was killed and Gellert showed his true colours, to the war, Voldemort, the possibilities..but recently his dreams had taken on a more horrific casting, as all of his old traumas and demons came back to haunt him. Families he'd torn apart, people who'd turned out so light, only to be so dark, the monsters he'd created, and the people he'd manipulated into taking their own lives…all were coming to him, haunting his dreams.

Tragically Harry Potter was one of them. That was just one of the more extreme nightmares, one of the worst was seeing Harry and Tom Riddle and Gellert being abused by muggles at the same time, and all three of them, three innocent children, were twisted into becoming monsters. Whenever Dumbledore saw that nightmare, he always wanted to be sick, since he had known two of them as young children. Seeing two small, frightened children being inducted into Hogwarts, only for them to gradually fall to the Dark Arts, made him physically ill.

All because he had done nothing to make their lives better.

But one of the worst of his nightmares was seeing little Harry Potter as a toddler growing up to becoming a Dark Lord even worse than Voldemort and Grindelwald combined. Combined! The very thought chilled Dumbledore to the bone and made him more nauseous than anything else. But what made it worse was it was plausible. Harry had suffered so much grief, loss, pain, rage, fear, and loneliness throughout his life.

Contrary to what some like Harry and Andromeda liked to believe right now, Dumbledore didn't have any intention of coming up with some new dangerous game. No, all he wanted was to be given a chance to help heal the young teenager, but every time he thought of Harry, the picture he conjured was how Harry had looked pre-Azkaban rather than his post-Azkaban self.

Andromeda and Filius were both right, he had such an idealistic viewpoint that was more of a burden than anything else. They were wrong, he just wanted to make amends, to have a chance to help him.

But was there a chance?

Was there a chance to make amends?

Could Harry's mind be fully healed from the exposure he'd suffered, from the trauma?

Were Andromeda, Filius and Pomona right in saying there wasn't a chance?

Would Harry be better off with his family in the MACUSA, could they repair the damage the British had caused?

Was there a sinister reason for these nightmares? Was his subconscious trying to tell him he was making a massive mistake and the horrifying future he was scared of, where Harry would snap and become a terrible Dark Lord who wanted to destroy the magical and muggle worlds come to pass if he brought Harry back?

Unbidden, he remembered the rest of the staff meeting….

-8-

Dumbledore opened and closed his mouth several times, but there was not a word - what could he say? Those had honestly not occurred to him, what kind of mental state Harry would be, how anything could make him snap and why not? It wasn't as if Harry had anything to keep him in check anymore and he no longer cared although Dumbledore guessed that since the boy just wanted freedom, he would not push too far, but they should have!

A monster of utter stupidity indeed, Andromeda mused to herself as she registered the old man's shock-induced speechless state. He thought that somehow, by some miracle or luck or grace that is bound to happen in the World of Albus Dumbledore, things would all just work out once Harry has been compelled to return here, right?

Merlin above, how could anyone be so stupid?! Andromeda thought to herself bitterly. I have heard of and even seen rose-coloured glasses, but this...

With a gasp of horror which might have been just a little bit too dramatic, McGonagall covered her face with her hands, but Sprout and Flitwick cared nothing for that.

No. Why should they?

As they have said, they were not guilt-free. None of them were; nobody had bothered to help Harry once, to give him support, or counselling, and nobody had bothered to help Harry with the Dursley's abuse, but they had still seen and heard for themselves how McGonagall, who was supposed to be Harry's Head of House - former Head of House, as the case may be - as well as his parents' former teacher and friend, had abused both House points and detentions to cause Harry no small amount of trouble and even misery.

While Flitwick had brought up House points and detentions to try to force Dumbledore's eyes open to the new tragic reality, it was also meant to serve as a hit at Minerva McGonagall, and as bittersweet as it was, both the Charms Master and the Herbology Professor were still pleased to see that they had hit the bull's eye.

How many times had Snape used the point system to his sick advantage?

How often had Snape been allowed to torment the students, with Harry Potter as his special target for no reason other than his twisted desires to get revenge on James Potter?

There was no doubt in some people's minds that Snape genuinely lusted after Lily, rather than loved her. If he had loved her, as Dumbledore mistakenly thought, then he would have been a man and accepted he was not hers.

Besides, their flood was far from done.

"And what are you going to do if Harry makes it a habit of constantly cursing the Weasleys, Hermione, and every other student in the castle?" This was Sprout, a smile dripping with scorn and derision on her lips as she eyed the old man who now seemed to be struggling to find something, anything, to say in retort. But they couldn't deny it; the Weasleys and Granger had caused Harry a lot of pain, so why should he show even an ounce of restraint? "What if he makes it a habit of literally beating up every other student in this castle with his bare hands? And no!" Sprout added with disgust as she saw Dumbledore immediately slip into denial mode. "Do not look at me like that! You, of all people, have no right to tell anyone what you believe Harry Potter would and would not do! Not after everything that has happened!" She snarled at him as she caught the disbelief and protest in his eyes when she mentioned Harry picking up new habits of cursing and beating. "Thanks to you, Albus Dumbledore, curses and physical violence have been - oh, Merlin above - two constants in Harry's life ever since his parents were killed! Deny all you want, protest all you want, you, your lap cat here, and all your other turkeys had all personally seen to it that he had been a constant victim of curses and physical violence all these years! And when he got here, he suffered even worse!

"I daresay that there is none, absolutely none, who knows about curses and physical violence better than him! So, what is to stop him now from retaliating with the very worst curses and the most brutal violence that he is capable of every single time someone tries to approach him?"

Andromeda's eyes widened in horror as she conjured in her mind a picture of Nymphadora, or some little kid, saying or doing something that made Harry brutally beat them to a pulp.

No, please.

Sprout went on with the same grim picture, her expression making it clear she was more than aware of the grim picture forming in their minds as they pictured the same thing. "Or just lashing out at anyone and everyone as he pleases? As Filius here had just pointed out, he has the power to destroy us all, Albus! And he is so close to snapping!"

Dumbledore couldn't deny it anymore. "I know. But I want to help him. We must try."

"What if he doesn't want our help?" Andromeda shook her head at the wretched old man, who was growing as pale as a corpse. "Not ours specifically; you've kept him from his American relatives for years. My Ted said it might be better if we let him go, and let him get on with his life. You were expecting him to be some saintly paragon of obedience, meekness, forgiveness, mercy, and compassion, were you not? But why should he be, Albus? Why should he be, when obedience and meekness have never done him anything good, and only caused him more pain? Why should he be forgiving, merciful, and compassionate, when no one has ever been forgiving or merciful or compassionate towards him? When I saw those memories of what Harry had gone through with those…. filthy muggles, I was amazed he came out the way he did. When no one has ever taught him anything about forgiveness, mercy, and compassion? How can you possibly expect him to be something when he does not even know what that something is?"

"Indeed, Albus." Flitwick agreed, his countenance and his tone as unnervingly silent as ever, and not for the first time, Dumbledore saw that the Charms Master had embraced his half-goblin heritage as thoroughly as he had embraced his talent in Charms - Filius Flitwick's eyes drove home the point that goblins were not to be trifled with. "None of us have any right to expect or demand anything of Harry Potter. You most of all. All of us - especially you - do not even have the right to breathe his air! You know it! He knows it! Everyone knows it! So, let me ask you this now: what are you going to do if he attacks someone to the point of serious or mortal injury? What will you do? Pat that person's head and give them one of your nauseating sherbet lemons and tell them that it was for Albus Dumbledore's Greater Good? Or send lemon flowers to that person's funeral, along with a card proclaiming that their sacrifice for Albus Dumbledore's Greater Good had not been in vain?"

"You've done it before," Pomona bitingly added. "How many times did you patronise him by patting on his head?"

Albus Dumbledore would have flared up, but he dared not. He knew only too well what would happen if he dared to put one more toe out of line. A part of him could not help but recall, though, that Aberforth had once said that one day, his obsession with lemons would be used against him in a way he would not like at all, and that part of him reflected wryly that, at least, someone (Aberforth) would be pleased that his prophecy was fulfilled.

"Do you see it now, Albus?" Andromeda asked silently.

Her demeanour and tone were now that of a teacher trying their utmost to impart true wisdom to a most stubborn student, though her eyes - eyes that were simultaneously so like and so unlike her deranged sister's - betrayed her belief that it was still going to be a lost cause.

"You and all the other idiots may have forced Harry to return here despite his wishes. But...he is still someone whom none of us, especially not you, can afford to cross, or displease, or offend, or do anything about in any way. I believe that at this point, he is what they would call a person who has nothing left to lose, but everything to gain. And he has nothing. He has lost his parents and any chance of having siblings, he has grown up abused and alone. Your Order saw to that. Now he has killed a Dark Lord, the same Dark Lord who has terrorised this country for years while you sat in this stupid castle.

"I don't know if Harry's taken the Dark Lord's knowledge; I have no idea what that bastard did to himself. But if he has, and if he's absorbed all of the power and knowledge of the Death Eaters, he is not someone to push...Albus, Harry is now a million times more dangerous than any of us can ever imagine, and we can do absolutely nothing even if he decides to demolish our entire world for good, or even slaughter us all with his bare hands. And he's been given a lot of reason; he's been forced to play games, one more dangerous than the other lost his family, been kept a prisoner for his whole life - and let's face it, that's how he sees it, and now he's lost a whole year of his teens, a time where we're meant to enjoy life instead of being shoved in a filthy prison because of the exaggerations and lies of so many who've been driven into a frenzy. The only thing you can do is to let him go.

Andromeda gave him a sharp but sad look. "Do you see it now, you crackpot old fool?! This is the kind of personage you have compelled back into our forsaken world and forced into this wretched school!"

Sprout sighed, a lot of her fiery anger leaving her as she stared Dumbledore down. The old wizard was wilting. "This is why you should never interfere with the lives of others; on the face of it, preventing things like abuse and cruelty is a good thing, but twisting a child into becoming a potential murderer is something you should never do. Let him go. Leave him alone."

McGonagall spoke for the first time. "I think they're right, Albus. I think we should just let Harry go."

"And you think that letting Harry sever all ties with us and Wizarding Britain as a whole is the way to go?" Dumbledore countered, unable to hide the dread he felt at the very images his imagination was stirring up at the very thought. "You think that letting him for America or some other country is the perfect solution to all our problems?" It was something of a miracle that Dumbledore managed to keep his tone as civil as ever when he spoke, especially considering how he was being defied and even shamed in a way he had extremely rarely been (the last time had been his brother, Aberforth, during their sister's funeral), but there was still a certain quality in his tone and a look in his eyes that made Andromeda, Sprout, and Flitwick raise their brows, for it was as if he was forcefully suppressing his rage with the grim determination of one who firmly believed they were doing what had to be done. Then again, perhaps he was. "It may be as easy as breathing for every single one of you here to blame me, and I cannot deny my culpability in this mess, but I still stand by what I have said: Harry. Needs. Help. He-"

"Help that you are in absolutely no position to provide at all, Albus." Andromeda interrupted, her voice as dry as a desert and the look in her eyes more unimpressed than ever. "Everyone knows that Harry Potter would not shed a single tear or care in the least even if you were to drop dead in this instant, let alone attend your funeral and mourn your passing. If anything, he might throw the Party of the Millennium to celebrate the event."

A strange bitterly amused smile touched Andromeda's lips as the old man flushed and glowered at her at that. It was the only way he could hide the chill he felt passing through him at the thought.

Oh, she had never had a good opinion of him, but it was only now did she realised how utterly shameless he truly was, for his reaction betrayed his innate desire for Harry to still view him in a positive light even after all that he had done to Harry.

"You know that. I know that. Everyone here knows that. So, what makes you think that he would want your help, my dear Albus? And in the first place, do you even know the meaning of that word? Everyone in the whole wide world knows that you do not even know the definition of a phrase as simple and easy and understandable as "a happy normal innocent childhood". And anyone who was there during his second trial would know your definition would be a childhood full of fear and abuse. So, that definition is what you see as normal and innocent, right? And if you do not even understand something like that, well, how can you possibly know what "help" means? And if you do not know what "help" means, how can you possibly help Harry?" Andromeda's voice was rising until she was shrieking like a banshee at Dumbledore, who paled.

Andromeda was panting hard and she looked down at the floor. "You disgust me, you really do," she said more quietly, "You manipulated events, manipulated Lily and James into staying here, into trusting you…but I wonder if they would have said you knew what you were doing if they were dead and saw what's happened to their only child because I can tell you, if I were in their position - myself and Ted, and some delusional old fool who believes himself to have the full right to decide on what others say, do, where they live, and even what they like to eat and drink for Merlin's sake, would abandon my daughter with abusive people who didn't care about her and would transform her into a shell of the little girl I've raised and don't think for one moment I haven't forgotten that you have made her an unthinking puppet until recently!"

Flitwick closed his eyes, hating the image of tyranny Dumbledore always created with his Order.

Filius Flitwick could not help but chuckle, though it was a sound that dripped with unhappiness, pain, and loathing. Pomona Sprout, too, shook her head at the old man, whose flush of shame and vexation was deeper than ever.

"Indeed, my dear Albus. We all know where you are going with this." The Charms Master started, his countenance as grim as death itself, and despite himself, Dumbledore winced at how his tone dripped the purest sarcasm and spite. "In your infinite wisdom, the Albus Dumbledore….Wisdom that has never failed you or us, you believe that whatever life Harry could live away from us all would not be the very best life for him. You believe that without you, the negative feelings Harry harbours against us - utterly righteous, utterly justified, and utterly understandable negative feelings, I must add - would ultimately destroy whatever new life he could find for himself, twisting and warping him until he becomes another Gellert Grindelwald or Lord Voldemort. And so, it is up to you, the Eternal Saviour of Harry James Potter and, of course, Wizarding Britain as a whole, to prevent this from happening. Oh, how noble of you, my dear Albus. How selfless. How giving. How thoughtful."

Sprout followed in the same line of thought. "What if Harry decides to settle down in the muggle world - just because he was abused by muggles doesn't automatically mean he hates all of them - and he begins dating muggle girls? Would you even care if Harry was happier with them, especially if some of them had gone through half of the things he had? What if he finds and dates a muggle-born who'd gotten tired of the stupid prejudices of this society? What would you do then? Would you wipe their memories, and claim it was for his good? Could you even begin to describe what kind of reaction that would bring you, or would you just act first and curse yourself for being stupid later? Because if you do, why you are even more arrogant than I thought."

For a moment, just a moment only, it seemed as if Dumbledore would draw out his wand and attack Flitwick and Sprout, while Andromeda mentally hoped Dumbledore, in his desire for control, would not make that mistake.

"As I have said, blame me all you want, but believe it or not, now that the war is over, I want Harry Potter to have a happy life," Dumbledore ignored Andromeda's scoff, and Flitwick's snort with some effort. "But I know for sure that one cannot live a happy life if one always holds pain and grudges in their heart. Surely none of you would object when I say that negative emotions like anger and resentment could poison one's life with bitterness more than anything else ever could? Look at Gellert Grindelwald! Look at Lord Voldemort! Even you cannot deny that they were what they were because they were poisoned by the bitterness caused by anger and resentment! And I know for sure that that is what would happen if we just left Harry Potter to his own devices! And we must not let that happen! We must not! We have turned our backs on him so many times in the past, shall we do it again, especially at this moment when, whether he acknowledges it or not, he needs us the most?! Everyone, please, no matter what you may think and feel about me now, it is the truth that Harry Potter needs our help!"

Andromeda and Flitwick exchanged one silent glance, but it was Sprout who spoke, and she did while shaking her head at the old man, "But what kind of help can you possibly provide him with, Albus?" The weariness and resignation in her tone made him stare at her and open his mouth, but whatever was on the tip of his tongue suddenly died away at the look in her eyes.

Never before had Pomona Sprout looked so lost, so exhausted, so...resigned. "What kind of help can we provide him with? How can we help him, when we do not even have the right to breathe his air? How can we help him, when we cannot even treat him like a normal student? How can we help him, when thanks to our previous actions and inactions, we have taught him to hate, fear, and loathe every single one of us like the very worst monsters? At his first trial, he was exposed to dementors so then he wouldn't be lucid enough; what kind of long-term impression would that have on him? Who's to say in his mind, the Ministry is willing to do whatever it wants, whenever it wants? And let's be honest, what can you expect from a flobberworm for brains bastard like Fudge? We all know how stupid he was when he was a student here. The fool can't find a cup of water if you dropped him in a lake! We all know Fudge liked to take whatever he liked and spew it out verbatim without bothering to check his facts, and we know how much he loves attention. Look at him now; a corrupt little politician who's barely able to hold his own position, willing to break so many laws.

"The last time I checked, it was against the law to prevent the accused from giving statements, and yet Harry was barely able to defend himself, because of Fudge. You didn't use your influence, or your power to stop any of it. He was even refused veritaserum, you remember that, right? It was a right, another denied him. What do you think that message says to him? That other wizards have them, but he doesn't because he is Harry Potter?

"And then there's Hogwarts. We haven't shown ourselves to be fair. How many times did that little bastard Malfoy harass him, and what would you do if he did it again? Would you just turn a blind eye, especially if Harry curses him so badly that even St. Mungo's wouldn't be able to cure him? What would you do then?"

Andromeda, Flitwick, and McGonagall shared a look. Draco Malfoy had always gotten away with everything in the past, primarily because of Snape, but at the same time Dumbledore refused to have him punished severely; instead, everyone whom he bullied were the ones punished.

Sprout began laying down the final end of her point, but she echoed the thoughts of two of her colleagues, "Let's face it, Albus; you have a habit of siding with the ones who bully rather than the victims, in fact you treat them as if they were the ones at fault. With Harry Potter, its much worse. You have never helped him, and you refused to let us help him which went against the charter. And now you expect us to help him. How can we, who have been so monstrous towards him, help him? You may be convinced that Harry Potter would never find happiness and would turn evil without our help, without you holding his hand Albus. I can't imagine anything more insulting to a teenager, especially someone like Harry, but whether you admit it or not, everyone knows for sure that Harry most certainly does not share that conviction of yours, and he never would. I say that if he does have any conviction, it would be that every single one of us is a monster whose sole desire is to torment him to death, especially you. You are the very greatest source of all the unhappiness and misery he has ever endured, Albus, and we all know it."

Dumbledore paled until he resembled a corpse about to be buried.

He honestly was not sure how much more of this he could take.

Looking around the room, Dumbledore was just relieved it was just Andromeda, Flitwick, McGonagall and Sprout with him; Slughorn was taking care of some extra business, acting as a tutor to bring Aurors and Healers up to standard. He would be returning to Hogwarts soon enough.

"And with every single time you make it clear that you are doing what you are now as you are frightened of him turning evil, all you are doing is sprinkling salt on his still-festering wounds, Albus." This was McGonagall, who was now looking at the corpse-pale old man in a grieved stern way that seemed utterly uncharacteristic of him. "At this point, I should know better than to presume I can view things from Harry's perspective, especially since I do not know him at all - a most grievous mistake on my part, I must confess, considering how dear Lily and James were to me. But you know what, Albus? I still say that your belief that Harry would turn evil without your holding his hand is an insult that goes straight to his heart. For you are accusing him of inevitably becoming that which took Harry's parents away from him, as well as what gave you the perfect opportunity for you and your equally horrible minions - myself included - to torment him as you all have all these years. Do you not see it, Albus? On top of all that you and yours have already done to him, you are continuing to brand him as a potential killer as well as a potential torturer! How can he possibly not be insulted by that, Albus?! How can his wounds possibly heal when you are sprinkling salt like that on them?! And how could you insult Lily's and James' boy like this, especially after all the pain and suffering you have already caused him?!"

Flitwick added, "Albus, I have heard everything that's been discussed, I have also told you how I would not even want to cross wands with Mr Potter. We are dealing with a wizard who has been traumatised and needs help, but is this the best thing to do? I don't think so. We have all caused so much harm to him that we should let him go."

-8-

Dumbledore closed his eyes as he remembered the meeting, and he tried to exorcise its outcome. He overruled the teachers, telling them that despite every single one of their fears, they had to try to make it up to Harry, to help him, so then their fears of him becoming another Voldemort did not come to pass.

But all of them believed it would have been better, simpler, and healthier to let Harry simply leave Britain, and go off to the MACUSA, which was what he'd wanted the whole time.

At the same time, Dumbledore knew he was nearing his end. He was an old and very experienced wizard. He had seen so much, done so much, he had witnessed so many depths the darkness was prepared to travel to, and he had fought in two magical wars. But he knew he was not immortal. He wanted a successor, but he was starting to wonder if he had overreached himself with Harry Potter.

-8-

Harry surprised Chloe during one of their sessions. He gave her a genuine smile.

"You seem chipper," she commented.

"I am a bit," Harry replied. He looked down at his hands. "I visited Potter Manor. I spoke to my parents' portraits."

"You did?" Chloe was pleased he had taken her advice. "How did that go?"

Harry was hesitant to tell her he had flown into a rage and nearby burnt his parents' portraits off of the wall, out of existence. But she knew of his inner darkness and his temper already after going into his mind from time to time to help him.

"It didn't go well at first," he admitted at last.

"Why, what happened?" Chloe asked.

Harry sighed and he slowly told the story of what happened in Potter Manor. Chloe…was far from impressed while she listened to his story, but she was pleased when he opened up to her.

"Anger is perfectly understandable," Chloe said at last; while she was horrified and chilled to discover just how far Dumbledore was prepared to go to carry out his plans, which reminded her of the Machiavellian methods, the ends justify the means, Harry was more important. This was just another step in his healing process. "Be honest, do you think you would have burnt your parent's portraits off the wall?"

Harry fell silent, considering the question. In truth he didn't know for sure, he had been holding back the urge to do it, but he'd already prepared himself for the meeting with his parent's portraits beforehand.

"I don't know," he said at last. "You're right. I was angry with them. They'd given birth to me in the middle of a war; when I mastered occlumency, I found my mind full of moments I shared with them, and all that time they just….sat back and waited for death. They trusted the wrong people, at least that's what I assumed, and what the evidence in front of me said." He sighed and closed his eyes. Chloe was startled to see tears rolling down his face. "I'm so tired, Chloe. I'm tired of the games, the betrayals, the killing, the misery and the destruction. Sometimes I hate my powers, being a wizard has caused me so much pain and grief. And for what?" Harry opened his eyes. "I found out an old man was pulling the strings." Harry looked down again. "Have you ever seen organ grinders with monkeys?"

Chloe nodded slowly, wondering where this was going.

"I think it's one of the cruellest things imaginable; these people forcing monkeys to entertain, the perform for a crowd," Harry's voice was filled with disgust. "I always felt sorry for the monkey, as it was forced to dance, dressed in a ridiculous costume."

"And you see yourself as the monkey," Chloe said softly, thinking that was the most logical reason he would bring it up.

Harry nodded, his expression grim. "I've been dancing to different tunes since I was born, Chloe. I'm tired of being played with. When I left Azkaban, the only thing that kept me going was going to the MACUSA. I just want to be with my family. I've got nothing here in this pit of a country."

Chloe had been speaking and going into Harry's mind to help him with the nightmare of his past, and she knew he had never had any kind of love for Britain, and who could blame him?

But Harry wasn't finished. "When I was speaking to my parents, I realised my life was empty. I don't have anyone to talk to. Nobody to love. And nobody to love me back," his voice broke Chloe's heart and she knew despite being a criminal in the muggle world, he had gotten help from a librarian in the muggle's local library, but she hadn't been able to help him except she had shown him books about what child abuse could lead to while he had looked for knowledge so he could be smarter than the Dursleys, and one of the things he had loved were children's picture books, as they showed a world he could never be part of, but it had shaped his personality so he would be kinder to those who needed it so he didn't become a thuggish monster, "When I was a kid, I fantasised about having a little brother or sister," Harry's voice turned wistful. "but soon I realised they were just fantasies. They were never going to happen, but when I learnt about the magical world, I saw an opportunity to find out if my parents had any more kids that were either lost, or had been sent away when the war heated up, and Dumbledore planned to keep it to himself."

"How excited were you at the possibilities?" Chloe knew if she'd been in Harry's shoes she would have been desperate as well as excited to find out if she had family.

"Very. While I was disappointed I didn't have any siblings, I was overwhelmed when I learnt about the branches of my family in the MACUSA, and I was let down even more about Dumbledore's meddling," Harry shook his head. "D'you remember when I told you about my views about survival being a choice?"

"Yeah," Chloe nodded without adding those views had actually horrified her, that a child would even need to think of life like that, but considering what Harry had gone for, she didn't argue with him. "What about it?"

Harry sighed. "When I realised my life was empty, I remembered how I had wanted to kill myself after leaving Azkaban. I just couldn't take the thought of having freedom, only to not have it, to be doomed being the Dark Lord so many people likely see me as turning into. I don't want to be a Dark Lord; I hate Dumbledore, Chloe, but he's right about how choices define us although I know for sure he nicked the idea to use for his ends."

If Chloe had been scared for her patient's mental health, she would have been sweating buckets this time. "You don't want to commit suicide, do you?" She asked timidly.

Harry shook his head. "No, but my life is still empty, Chloe. I want something to live for. I don't want to live like a shell of a person."

Chloe wasn't sure what to say. Despite all her training, victims suffering from PTSD were the worst.

-8-

A few days later, Harry was shopping in muggle London. He had spent the last few days walking around London, enjoying himself as he spent time in the theatres in the West End, watching movies at the cinema and going to restaurants to develop his palette. Harry had finished arranging his holiday using Gringott's resources. He was heading on a trip to several parts of Europe, Asia, and the Caribbean before he met up with his family in the MACUSA.

They'd been working on it for days now; Dumbledore might be able to stop them from coming to Britain, but the old wizard had likely assumed that his blanket of control would stop him from getting curious about looking for that sort of information for himself. And if he travelled to America the muggle way, there was little the Ministry could do.

Frankly, being out of the Ministry's jurisdiction was a godsend to Harry, and the less he had to do with them the better.

Harry shoved those thoughts out of his head and carried on with his shopping. He had already picked up a camera, several rolls of film and a quick crash course in learning how to use it and how to switch the film around. He'd bought several albums. He'd bought a travel bag, shorts, t-shirts, socks, sandals, swimming trunks, goggles, and sun tan lotion. Right now he was merely buying more clothes for his holiday, and for anything else he might like.

Harry was so busy concentrating on his purchases he didn't notice a small group of muggles behind him had stopped and recognised him. Harry also didn't notice one of them storming up to him, but he did notice the meaty paw coming down on his shoulder.

Harry froze in shock when he realised what had happened, it took a second later for him to realise who was behind him before the disgusting voice of his muggle uncle growled in his ear, "What are you doing here, Boy?!" Vernon Dursley was next to him, squeezing his shoulder tightly in his anger, but as he twisted his head, he saw Petunia and Dudley rushing over to him.

Harry reacted in a rage, but he had more than enough control to grip the handle of his wand and cast a strong privacy bubble around himself, his uncle and his approaching relatives; he noticed Petunia was looking around scared, as if one of her stupid social-climbing friends was nearby, while Dudley was grinning at the sight of Harry being attacked in public like this. He was not the same punching bag for the muggles he had been before, and while Chloe had helped him a lot these last few weeks, he was still a very, very dangerous young man.

Once the bubble was up, Harry worked it so that the Dursleys couldn't hear anything outside and nobody could hear or see what was going on, so unless he used some of the more powerful curses and spells in his repertoire now he'd absorbed Voldemort's knowledge, he could already see several ways of killing the Dursleys.

But he didn't.

Knowing physical violence would shock the Dursleys, Harry twisted around and punched Vernon in the eye.

"VERNON!" Petunia cried, rushing to her husband, but Harry had both his wands out, and he froze the muggles.

"Shut up," Harry hissed.

Petunia glared at him before she noticed his wands. "Put those away!" She looked around fearfully, Harry noted in amusement she looked confused.

"They can't see what's going on," Harry explained. "I used magic to make sure they couldn't hear or see what you were doing, and they can't see what I am going to do to you." He smirked as he saw the looks of horror on their faces. "Now, you're going to answer my questions, and I would think carefully before pissing me off more because attacking a dangerous wizard is not a good move. How did you know it was me?"

"The freaks told us you'd been freed from prison, and they told us about your freaky white hair," Petunia admitted.

Harry's jaw began to twist. He hated the word freak.

"How did you get the long white hair? Did you dye it?" Dudley began to laugh at his crude joke.

Harry's eyes flared, and Dudley began to choke. His hands flew to his throat as he went blue. "Be very careful, you filthy muggle. I'm emancipated. I can use magic. And I don't care one bit about wiping you from the face of this planet. I might be doing the human race a favour."

"Stop it!" Vernon shouted, looking at him with demented piggy little eyes, but because he couldn't move still, he couldn't rush Harry.

Harry did nothing, he just watched in silent amusement as Dudley slowly collapsed to the ground, unable to breathe. "No, I don't think I will," he said, smirking at his muggle cousin. "Maybe…I should squeeze tighter?"

Dudley gasped harder as the curse intensified.

"Stop it, or-!"

"Or what?" Harry retorted, glaring at him in disgust. "Go on, tell me. What can you do? Look, nobody can see what I'm doing. You can't move. You have nothing to threaten me with. I killed Lord Voldemort and his followers. I duelled the sonofabitch before I killed him. I did all that, weak, malnourished, and borderline insane because of the demons that had driven me mad for a whole year. And he was one of the most powerful Dark wizards in history. What makes you think I'm scared of you?" Harry's eyes flared with an unnatural magical light that had the muggles recoil.

"Stupid. All three of you. Did you really not bother reading the letter you were sent, or did it not tell you the details of my release? Ironically I have committed mass murder, but not the mass murder I was accused of. I've had to cope with hearing my parents' last moments in my head all year, along with other things. I've done all of that, and you have the nerve to threaten me here? Tell me, Vernon, Petunia, Dudley, why I shouldn't just kill all three of you, here and now?"

"You'd be expelled from that freak school," Vernon blustered, but he flinched when Harry levelled his wand at him.

"I don't want to go back to Hogwarts. I want to go to a different school, better than the dump I've gone to over the last few years. Try again," Harry snapped before he decided he'd had enough. He had better things to do than play games, and have a pointless debate with the Dursleys.

For the next few minutes before he collapsed the bubble, he began hitting the Dursleys with some of the less dangerous curses in his arsenal, but since he was in the muggle world he couldn't go further. When he was finished, he healed them of their worst injuries and took down the privacy bubble, grabbed his purchases when he remembered them and walked away. He didn't look back.

-8-

"Well, Albus, what do you want?" Aberforth had his arms folded as he glared at his brother.

Albus sighed. No matter what, it seemed he and his brother were destined to be at loggerheads, and that wasn't what he wanted deep down for his long-term plans. He knew a large amount of the blame rested on his shoulders. The Dumbledore brothers had never gotten along; Albus, being the smarter of the two, not to mention the most powerful, had overshadowed his siblings, gloating and bullying and rubbing into their faces he was better than them.

It wasn't until he had seen Ariana's corpse, that Albus had realised what he had done even if he was still ambitious. But he had lost so many years, needing to build his good image.

Albus pushed the pensieve towards Aberforth and he tapped one of the runes with his wand. "I need an objective eye," he said, "I want someone who doesn't care about what I want, someone realistic."

"Okay, now I am confused," Aberforth grumbled but intrigued. "Realistic about what? And why bother seeking me out, asking for my advice? I know you, Albus; you don't care about what other people want, so long as your petty schemes are fulfilled."

Albus glowered angrily but he accepted the jibe. "I sought you out because you hate me," Albus replied. "But you will be honest with me."

Aberforth bit his lip in thought before he nodded. "Get on with it," he muttered. "Unlike you, I have a real life to get back to."

Again, Albus didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he tapped his wand. He showed his brother the dreams he'd been having about Harry's turn to the Dark side. Aberforth said and did nothing as he listened and watched, and when it was finally over he shook his head.

"Why are you constantly using Harry Potter, Albus? Hasn't he gone through enough already?" Aberforth asked.

"I don't want the boy to go dark, Aberforth," Albus spread his hands out, "Haven't you heard the rumours Harry Potter somehow gained the knowledge of Voldemort? Don't you know what that means?"

"You're scared he'll go dark because of just that? Albus, that boy was abused because of your actions. I will never understand what possesses you to destroy the lives of so many people, but has it not occurred to you that by bringing young Potter back to Hogwarts you might be ushering in the nightmare you believe is going to happen instead of Harry going off on his own without you there?" Aberforth challenged.

Albus was stunned.

"You're doing it again, brother," Aberforth whispered. "Your interference, your drive to ensure things don't turn out the way you hope, nearly always causes those events from happening. Haven't you paid attention yet? You and that monster your actions caused the boy to lose his whole family, and you then kept him away from magical relatives, simply because you thought you had the right to shape the boy's life the way you wanted - yes, your actions; I didn't like what Voldemort stood for at the end, but he had many good points; how muggle-borns needed to be introduced into society without endangering us, traditions being scrapped just for them, and then you lit the spark by destroying those demonstrations and rallies and so many people became collateral damage to your plans. Did you really think there wouldn't be consequences, but of course, to you, the word doesn't even factor in your vocabulary.

"But what I really find funny is that you genuinely thought the boy wouldn't wise up," Aberforth scoffed. "Haven't you worked it out, abused children are smarter than others. If I were, Albus, I would let the boy go. Meet that moron Fudge, tell him to simply give Potter the permission he needs to leave this country. Stop hemming him in, stop thinking only you have the right or the knowledge, or the supposed 'wisdom' to make the magical world a better place, and let him go, and get on with your own life."

Aberforth knew he was wasting his time, and he mentally prayed Harry Potter had enough sense of self not to fall into the path of a Dark Lord.