Chapter 5
“How are you feeling now, child?”
Harry gazed, weary and worn, into the eyes of Albus Dumbledore.
“I’m fine… professor.”
Dumbledore had not yet ascended to the role of Headmaster, and would likely not for some time, Harry thought, strangely detached. She’d heard Madam Pomfrey, so very young and afraid, so much more permeable to shock than the wisened, confident woman she had later become, refer to him as “Professor,” thrice already. Which made sense, given Harry estimated Dumbledore had only become Headmaster when Madam Pomfrey had put on considerably more years.
Even if she hadn’t figured that out, though, her look into his memories would have been enough to confirm.
She didn’t— she didn’t understand how it happened. It reminded her of the legilimency shared between her and Snape during her first year, but that hadn’t been anywhere near as debilitating. It hadn’t been anywhere near as clear, either. While not the paragon of lucidity, her excursion into Dumbledore’s mind had provided her with a much more thorough array of memories.
It shouldn’t have been possible for her to make sense of it; the decades of experiences, the sorrow and grief and fury at the world, the laughter and jokes and hope. It shouldn’t have been possible, because it had all come down on her within a mere moment. Her awareness of the situation had reduced to just the sensation that her head was on fire, overwhelmed with pain, and then she remembered blacking out.
So how? How had she remembered every moment of her his life when she awoke?
What in Morgana’s name was going on?
And the most baffling of all— Dumbledore hadn’t noticed. The very notion was preposterous— she knew he was skilled in Occlumency, that he must have been even now, and yet he hadn’t noticed such a deep intrusion into his mind.
Or at least, he hadn’t let her know he’d noticed…?
Harry’s head ached, and she brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose.
The action reminded her of Snape all over again.
Was this how she’d troubled him? Bringing forth anomaly after anomaly with no explanation and even more reservation on top of it? No wonder he’d get so mad at her. But she'd appreciated his help, no matter how much it alarmed her when he came too close to what he couldn’t know.
And now she wouldn’t have him to help her sort everything out when she needed him most.
Snap out of it, you idiot! Dom’s voice cut through her melancholy like a jagged rock.
A jagged rock— pfft, Harry shook her head, I’m going mad.
You aren’t, Dom snapped at her, but you will if you continue to act like this. Do you think this is how your mentor would have wanted you to live?
That shook her.
N-no. Snape… would never —
“Child?” Dumbledore’s voice echoed in her ears.
“Er, sorry sir? Could you repeat what you just said?”
His eyes drew into a concerned frown, “I understand you are tired, child. I would leave you to rest if possible, but this matter requires utmost precedence.”
“It’s fine. L-Like I said, I’m fine,” Harry could have laughed. The way the words rolled off her tongue with force of habit was just a few notes short of delirious.
“Then I shall get to it,” Dumbledore said softly, “What kind of Dark Magic were you hit with, child? Your identity, your appearance here— that we can all deal with later. But the ramifications of Dark Magic as powerful as this is unpredictable and a danger to yourself and others in the best of times.”
Harry couldn’t say she didn't hesitate— she always hesitated. But there was something comforting in letting him know, and while she doubted that alone would have been enough to convince her, she didn’t see any harm.
Maybe… maybe he could help?
It’s your call, kid. I don’t see the harm either. Harry’s head dipped ever so slightly, “Right. I suspect I was hit by a tempus tergum spell, Professor. I’m— I’m a time-traveller.”