Yeah, hi, I have not abandoned this project. I apologize for the six month wait for this latest installment- in April, I was accepted into a PhD program and had to put a pause on just about everything else. The program required me to move halfway across the country, to one of the most notoriously difficult places to live on Earth (really, someone tell New Yorkers they need to just chill the hell out for five minutes...). And of course, starting the PhD program itself has been a bit of a beast. The work started in June and it's been non-stop since.

But, while I've definitely not gotten any less busy, I do think I've gotten more of a handle on things and improved at managing my time. Thus, I was finally able to finish the third book and get this chapter written. This wasn't nearly as challenging to write as I thought it would be, because while Dumbledore doesn't appear on the page nearly as much in this book as he does in others, there is a lot going on behind the scenes that I was able to play with.

As before, where canon does not give me explicit fact (or works against typical adult logic because...children't series), I've substituted in quite a bit of conjecture and headcanon. There are some rather deliberate choices here that are meant to parallel the many unspoken similarities between Dumbledore and Harry. It made this chapter interesting to write. We're seeing a progression in Dumbledore's growing feelings about Harry that are going to really come to a head in the next installment. Hope you all enjoy!

Sirius Black Escapes Azkaban Prison!

Guards from Azkaban prison have informed the Ministry of Magic that one of its most notorious mass-murderers, Sirius Black, escaped the prison in the early hours of Tuesday morning. Ministry officials are not yet aware how Black managed to escape. Black is assumed armed and dangerous.

Black is most famous for his murder of twelve muggles and one wizard, Peter Pettigrew (Order of Merlin, First Class), with a single curse on the morning of November 1st, 1981. Many will remember this as the day following the fall of You-Know-Who, who lost power after the murders of James and Lily Potter the night before. Their son, Harry, survives, and will be attending his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Black was a known supporter of You-Know-Who. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, spoke to reporters this morning. "We can only assume Black's target is Mr. Potter, I'm afraid," he stated. "Black lost everything the night You-Know-Who fell. We feel he may have escaped to seek revenge for his fallen master." Fudge later reported that guards from Azkaban will be stationed at Hogwarts this year.

"For the protection of the children, you know," Fudge stated. Fudge has urged calm, and reassured worried parents that their children will still be safe at the school. "Between Dumbledore and the guards, I can't think of a safer place!"

Muggle authorities have been informed that Black is at large and carrying a weapon known as a gun. Any witch or wizard who sights Black is urged not to confront him, but to inform the Ministry immediately.

Albus Dumbledore sighed deeply. He set the paper down and removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose. His eyes flicked to the photograph printed beside the article- a mugshot, silently screaming up at him. The once handsome face was marred with rage.

There was a knock at the office door. Albus sighed again and returned his glasses to their place on his nose.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal an exceptionally shabby looking man. He wasn't much more than 30, yet his appearance was that of a man twice his age. His weathered robes hung from his slim frame. Once sandy-brown hair was streaked with gray, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look as though he hadn't slept in weeks.

"Remus," Albus said in greeting, standing to offer his hand.

"Professor Dumbledore," the man, Remus, said in return. Beneath his tired face, he cracked a small smile. "Good of you to invite me, but I don't think…"

Albus interrupted him by holding up a hand. "I won't hear of it," he said. "Naturally, I'm aware of your conditions. Arrangements were made before, they can…ah…be made again. I assume you've heard of the Wolfsbane potion? Marvelous invention, really." Albus spoke as though he were discussing the latest Quidditch scores. Remus, meanwhile, appeared unsettled.

"Yes," he said pensively, taking the seat opposite Albus's large desk. "But I'm afraid I cannot brew it myself. Never was much for potions, I'm sure you recall…"

"No matter, no matter," Albus said rather casually, smiling at the man across him. "You may have heard, we have a rather brilliant potions instructor. He's agreed to brew it for you, should you accept my offer."

Remus's face, which had grown dark with skepticism, seemed to light up. "Really? He'll do it? I'd have thought…after all these years…"

"He agreed."

The matter was closed.

"There is, however…one other matter we ought to discuss," Albus said delicately, shifting the newspaper towards his guest. Remus took it, a shadow crossing his face. It aged him further. Albus merely observed. He had no doubt about Remus Lupin's loyalties, nor his capacities to teach. But it was easy to lose one's head when it came to matters such as these.

"It's true then," Remus said coldly, handing the paper back to Albus when he'd read his fill. "I'd heard the rumors."

"I'm terribly sorry, Remus," Albus said, folding the paper and placing it off to the side. "I know you were friends…"

"Not anymore."

That matter, too, was closed. Albus gave a small sigh.

"I'm sure you also know that Harry is here." At this, Remus brightened a touch.

"Yes…yes, of course I know," he said softly. "James's son."

"He looks remarkably like him," Albus said, "except the eyes. He has Lily's eyes." Remus smiled, almost wistfully. Albus knew well the pain he must still feel- the loss of any friend was terrible, but the loss of such a friend…James and Lily Potter had certainly left a hole in the world when they'd left it.

But then there was Harry, young Harry Potter. He was terribly like them- Albus knew it well, for he had watched Harry closely over the course of the past two years. Perhaps closer than anyone else ever had.

"What's he like?" Remus suddenly asked, breaking the amiable silence. Albus smiled again- only natural Remus would want to know about his old friend's son.

"He's very bright," Albus began. "Brave, like his father. But gentle like his mother. He favors her in temperament, if not in looks. Though there is a certain disregard for the rules I'm sure you'll recognize." Remus laughed quietly, shaking his head.

"And just how much did you know, Dumbledore?"

"More than you believed at the time," Albus said, inclining his head. "Though I'm sure there's much I'd prefer to remain ignorant of if we're to be colleagues." Remus laughed again, only to glance towards the window.

"We called ourselves the Marauders. James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter- the four Marauders of Hogwarts!" Remus shook his head again. "We were as close as any friends could be."

Albus's smile faded, as it often did when he remembered just how much of a tragedy the Potters' deaths had been. There was so much he could not tell Remus about that night. He wished he could, if only to ease the younger man's pain.

"I'm looking forward to meeting him," Remus said, jarring Albus out of his own darkening thoughts. "Harry. That is, if…" he trailed off, a question in his eyes.

"Of course," said Albus. "My offer hasn't changed."

"I'd understand if it had…he," Remus gestured savagely towards the screaming man in the news article, "was my friend once."

"But not anymore."

"No."

"Then I believe the matter is settled," Albus said kindly. "My only request, is that you not go looking for Black. I understand the desire…but I'm afraid I can't allow one of my teachers to go tracking down an escaped convict."

Remus sat there, looking quite stunned. Yet Albus thought he might have hit on some baser instinct in the younger man. He had always been the more careful of his friends, yet Albus suspected Remus was still likely to kill Black on sight, if given the chance.

"You must allow the guards to do their job, if it comes to that. Do you understand? I won't be able to protect you if, ah…you were to avenge James and Lily yourself."

Finally, after a long moment, Remus nodded.

"I had thought of…but you've been too kind, Dumbledore, I don't deserve it. I won't seek him out."

For now, that was good enough for Albus.

"Then the job is yours. I will see you again on the first of September."

Though half the staff thought him mad for it, it was no coincidence that Albus had hired Remus Lupin for this particular year. Werewolf or not.

It ought not surprise him by now- not when the past two years had been shockingly eventful. Still, Albus had the horrible suspicion that this year might be particularly difficult for young Harry Potter. Albus was no fool. He knew Harry would discover the truth about his murderous godfather sooner or later. Better to hear it from a friend than a foe.

Albus hoped Remus Lupin could be such a friend. For he, certainly, could not.

As always, the students arrived on September 1st, safe, happy, and only a little shaken that a dementor had entered their train. Angry as Albus was, he understood the desire for such a safety precaution. Even so, when he'd heard the way Harry Potter had passed out from the ordeal, Albus had been deeply troubled.

Having those things on the grounds had not been his choice- the Ministry had rather brutishly forced it upon him, disregarding his authority as Headmaster completely. He could not deny, however, that he had no power with the government. That was the way he had wanted it- he'd denied the position as Minister enough times, after all.

Still, in some situations, it was terribly irksome. The dementors were, no doubt, dangerous. And completely useless, as they all learned on Halloween night.

"Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black!" cackled the poltergeist, flitting away from the frightened group of students huddled outside Gryffindor Tower. Albus pushed his way through the crowd. Of course, it was the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Naturally, Black must have assumed he'd be able to strike once inside.

Albus lifted one hand to the shredded portrait, pressing the torn canvas back into place for a moment. The slash marks were brutal yet frantic. Their jagged edges had torn the painting beyond recognition. The Fat Lady, it's usual occupant, was nowhere to be found.

"Back to the Great Hall, all of you!" Albus said loudly, turning back to the white-faced crowd. "The castle must be searched immediately. Heads of Houses, gather your students as well. I want everyone in one place. Gryffindors, follow me."

Albus strode to the front of the crowd, wand aloft. It was imperative that all remain calm, him most of all, yet his heart raced as they turned each corner. Occasionally Albus glanced backwards, listening and looking for signs that Black might be lurking out of sight. Albus didn't think him fool enough to attack such a large group, but with Harry there behind him, he couldn't afford to take risks.

Albus glanced back again, this time searching for the familiar jet-black head of hair. Harry seemed unafraid, discussing something at length with his friends, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley. No doubt all three were aware by now precisely whom Black had hoped to target. Albus pressed on, face impassive yet movements hurried. The quicker they were in the Great Hall, the safer they would all be.

Albus had no doubt in his own abilities to apprehend Black, should he come across him in a fair fight. But Black was a criminal, and it was a surprise attack Albus feared. Loathe though he was to admit it, he was not as young as he once was. Age did one's reflexes no favors. And if anyone was hurt…or Merlin forbid, killed…Albus didn't like to think of it.

Thankfully they arrived at the hall without incidence. The other houses trailed in after them, confused chattering filling the still-decorated room. With a wave of his wand, Albus lit the candles again. Minerva and Filius secured the doors.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," he said. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbances should be reported to me immediately." Percy Weasley puffed out his chest, equal parts serious and self-important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Albus turned to leave, only to remember- "oh, and you'll be needing…" he trailed off, finishing his thought with magic instead of words. With a few waves of his wand, the tables had stacked themselves against the wall, and hundreds of purple sleeping bags now crowded the floors. Not ideal, perhaps, but it would be safe. Albus turned towards the doors, nodding at the other teachers to follow him into the hall. Before he left, however, he turned back to the students, projecting as much calm as ever, and said "sleep well."

As soon as the door closed, however, panic set in.

"What must we do, Albus?"

"How could he have slipped past the dementors?"

"He must have helped, don't you see, I warned you…"

"What? How dare you accuse me of…"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Minerva roared. She turned to Albus. "Secure the doors, Albus." He nodded.

"I do not know how Black entered this castle, but it is imperative we find him," he said, once the doors were sealed with protective spells. "Severus, you and Mr. Filch will search the dungeons. Filius, the North Tower. Pomona, East. Minerva, the West Tower, and I will search the South. The rest of you, take the classrooms. Anyone who finds him is to apprehend him immediately. I'm afraid the dementors will be wanting their prisoner back."

A grave silence settled over the small crowd- each and every one of them knew what that meant. Most likely remembered, as Albus did, the boy Sirius Black had been.

"I wish it weren't so," he said. "But I'm afraid we've little say in the matter. Go."

Much later, it was clear Black was not in the castle. How he'd managed it was a troubling mystery. Security measures would have to be tightened from here on out- much as Albus loathed to do it.

He paced the length of the Great Hall now, discussing the many logistics with each scared face he saw coming in and out. Each report was a small disappointment, though not a surprise.

"Very well Severus," Albus said in response to the latest update. Black was, indeed, gone. Percy Weasley stood beside them, listening intently. "I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?" Severus asked, joining quite naturally alongside Albus's pace up the hall.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next." Albus stopped in front of the silhouetted form of Harry Potter, considering the boy for a moment. But Severus was not to be deterred.

"You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before, ah, the start of term?" Severus murmured, blocking Percy from the conversation with a quick motion.

"I do, Severus," Albus said, snapping his gaze from the sleeping boy up to Severus's eyes.

"It seems…almost impossible…that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concern when you appointed-"

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it."

The matter was closed.

Albus glanced back down at Harry. Did he know, yet, the truth about Sirius Black? Perhaps not…either way, Albus had little desire to tell him. Though it was terribly clear Harry was a far more capable young man that Albus could have hoped he would ever be, it felt cruel to keep tearing away at his innocence. And he was still innocent, wasn't he? Lying there, seemingly so at peace…something stirred again, a longing in Albus that only Harry had ever roused. Far more than the desire to keep him alive, there was a need to protect. Let him sleep, let him dream a while longer…he was only a child.

"I must go down to the dementors," Albus said quickly, tearing his gaze away from the boy. "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" Percy asked.

"Oh yes," Albus said, a chip of ice to his tone. "But I'm afraid no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

With that he swept from the room, deeply disturbed by the nature of his own thoughts.

He was growing dangerously attached to Harry Potter.

It was one of the worst Quidditch matches Albus had ever attended. Dark and stormy, the rain pelted upon both teams in sheets. Thunder rumbled in the clouds, lightning cracked across the sky, and yet the game went on. Albus kept his eye on Harry, privately rooting for him to end this match quickly.

Then a sudden chill descended upon the stadium, one that had nothing to do with the wind- Albus froze. He was caught off guard, and before he could so much as draw his wand, a white fog clouded his vision. His bones felt as though they'd been plunged into ice- and deep in the back of his mind, he could hear the faint cries of a little girl. They grew louder, and other voices soon joined hers. He shut his eyes, frozen by the voices. It had been so long, so long since he had heard them, but they were, unmistakable- a boy laughing madly, another's shouts of fury, and the little girl, screaming, crying for it all to stop-

Don't hurt them, please, hurt me instead!

No!

Albus blinked, wrenching himself free of his hallucinations. He blinked again, only to see a silvery, tabby cat resting on his shoulder, and the concerned face of Minerva McGonagall peering up at him. He was about to mutter his thanks, ready to draw his own wand to chase the dementors away, when suddenly she cried out- "Harry!" and clapped a hand to her mouth.

In the midst of his own madness, Albus hadn't seen the dementors attacking the boy. Nor had he realized just how many there were- hundreds of them, gathering below on the field. He leapt to his feet, charging out onto the field as Harry plummeted to the ground. He brandished his wand.

"Arresto Momentum!"

Harry's body hung limp, gliding gently towards the ground. Albus could breathe again. Another wave.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The familiar silver phoenix burst forth from his wand, brighter than ever before. It soared above the stadium in a magnificent arc, chasing each and every dementor from the field. One by one they slithered back to their posts, driven out by the light of Albus's Patronus.

Harry, meanwhile, continued his slow descent to earth. With the dementors gone, Albus summoned a stretcher for him to land on. Harry's face was white as a sheet; rain and mud soaked through his robes. Enraged in a way he didn't bother to dwell on, Albus marched up to the castle, stretcher in tow.

He delivered Harry to Madam Pomfrey, diverting her many questions with but a word- "dementors." And then he'd marched off again to send a strongly worded owl to the Minister.

Those things could not stay.

Moments later, Albus returned to the Hospital Wing, no less furious but significantly calmer- much more himself.

"Ah, Dumbledore," Madam Pomfrey said, only glancing up from her work for a moment. "I'm afraid I can't let anyone see him now, it's a miracle he's alive…however did you manage it?" She bustled about the bed, pulling off Harry Potter's mud-covered shoes.

"I was able to slow his fall," Albus said, ignoring the witch's warnings and crossing the room to Harry's side. "How is he, Poppy?"

"He'll be fine, Albus, but he needs rest," she said with a pointed glare. "You put this boy through too much! I swear he's in here every year for one thing or another." Albus's lips twitched. She was right, of course.

"I'm afraid Mr. Potter has a bit of a talent for trouble," Albus said, as though he'd just been informed Harry had received another detention. "Much like his father." Poppy scoffed.

"His father never had as many broken bones, I'll tell you what," she brandished a finger towards Albus, then shook her head and turned away. "He needs chocolate. Watch him for a moment!" It seemed she'd forgotten her earlier demand that he leave. The door to her office slammed behind her, and they were alone.

Was this the third or the fourth time Harry's life had been in mortal danger? Albus wondered, as again he considered the boy. Poppy was certainly right about one thing- he'd put this boy in far too much danger. Yet it was necessary.

Not the fall from the sky. Never anything like that. But his many trials, the tests he'd been put through…these were essential first steps, were they not? Much as Albus wished he could lift the burden from the boy's young shoulders, he could not.

And the worst was yet to come. Albus had not told a soul of the truth he'd realized the year prior. Nor had he given any hint, to anyone, of the terrible fate to which Harry was condemned. That was Albus's burden to bear, and his alone, until such a day that Harry learned the truth.

It would not be today.

Albus pulled a chair aside, sitting beside the bed much as he had done in Harry's first year, after he'd procured the Stone from the mirror. Then, of course, Albus had been terribly concerned for the boy's safety. Had Harry died from his injuries, they'd have all been lost.

Now that he had a moment to ponder his own reaction, however, Albus realized something quite disconcerting. His own feelings had nothing to do with the greater good at all. When he'd rushed out onto that field, he hadn't been thinking about wars or Voldemort or Horcruxes. He'd thought only of Harry.

And it was Harry's happy, smiling face that had flashed in his mind when he'd summoned his Patronus.

He left the Hospital Wing before Harry awoke.

The Minister, of course, had denied Albus's demand that the dementors be removed. Meanwhile, it seemed, Harry himself had come up with a solution of his own.

"He wants to learn to cast a Patronus himself, Dumbledore," said a rather forlorn Remus Lupin. He had seated himself in the chair across from Albus, as though he were a student rather than colleague. Albus folded his hands carefully, resting his chin against the tips of his fingers.

"And what do you think of this?"

"I think it's very advanced magic for a third year," Remus said. His hands clenched against the fabric of his robes. "I fear he won't be able to manage it- thousands of grown witches and wizards can't."

"Harry has shown himself to be an extraordinary person in the years I've known him," Albus replied, lips quirking upwards. "He may surprise you."

"He does well in my class," Remus admitted, "but I confess we've not done much with spell work. Third years are learning magical creatures, and definitely nothing as complex as a Patronus."

"It isn't really the spell work that makes a Patronus so difficult, Remus," Albus said. "Surely you, of all people, understand this?"

Remus fidgeted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. "I'm aware," he said, looking away. "But I fear Harry…the dementors affect him so strongly, Dumbledore. Does he have a memory strong enough to counteract them?"

"There are true horrors in Harry's past," Albus conceded. "But he is hardly the first person to suffer so, and live to smile again." He glanced rather pointedly towards Remus himself. "And I believe it prudent that he be able to defend himself. As you say, the dementors affect him quite strongly."

"You believe in him, then?"

"I do."

Remus nodded.

"The funny thing is," he said, "is that I do too."

A second time, Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor Tower.

A second time, the castle was searched.

A second time, Black was nowhere to be found.

And a second time, Severus Snape stood at Albus's side, a cold sneer upon his face.

"Headmaster, you must see sense," Severus said, strolling alongside Albus at the edge of the lake. Albus kept his gaze trained upon the glassy surface, idly wondering if the giant squid might make an appearance.

"I'm aware of your suspicions, Severus," Albus said gently. "But I do not find them credible. Forgive me."

Severus looked incredulous.

"Twice now Black has broken into this castle!" He stopped, blocking Albus from walking any further. "Twice now he has attempted to murder the very student you made me swear to protect!"

"And I appreciate how hard you work at this, Severus."

"Yet you do nothing to prevent it?"

"That is hardly a fair accusation," Albus said evenly, gaze narrowing as he looked towards the edge of the castle grounds. Severus followed his line of vision, and he frowned.

"The dementors aren't working."

"I do not believe anyone in this castle is assisting Sirius Black in entering it," Albus said coldly, turning hard eyes back upon Severus. The younger man stepped back, clearly chastised.

"Put your prejudices aside, Severus," Albus said, continuing his walk around the lake. "They do you no credit."

Severus fell into step beside him, and spoke no more. Yet it was clear from the dark look upon his face that inside, he was fuming. Albus's words had again fallen on deaf ears.

He sighed.

A third time, Sirius Black entered the castle.

This time, however, he did so in chains. The once handsome face was gaunt, waxy, and thin. His eyes gleamed with a wildness Albus did not remember. His hair was matted, his clothing torn. He looked all the wilder for the way the moonlight cast deep shadows across his face. Yet the way he begged for someone, anyone, to listen to him, had stilled Albus entirely. So he agreed to hear him out.

He listened intently as Sirius Black told his story. It was unbelievable. Outside the window, the lonely howl of a wolf could be heard in the distance.

"Please, Dumbledore…I didn't betray them. I'd have sooner died, died rather than betray my friends…betray James…"

"You're asking me to believe your tale, with no evidence at all. You say Pettigrew escaped. Forgive me for saying, but that is rather convenient."

Sirius gave a low little moan. Then his eyes popped open.

"Veritaserum, use Veritaserum! Please, Dumbledore, I'm not lying!"

"I'm afraid we have none in our stores at the moment," Albus said with a sigh. "And it would take months to brew it. The dementors won't wait that long, I fear." Sirius went pale.

"But you believe me…Harry does, he can tell you what happened…you'd believe him, wouldn't you? He's James's son…" Sirius trailed off, the small flicker of hope gone out in his eyes. "Where is Harry now?"

"The Hospital Wing."

"Is he all right?"

"Spoken like a true godfather," Albus said with a tilt of his head.

"I DIDN'T BETRAY THEM!" Sirius roared suddenly, straining against the chains that held his hands to the wall. Albus sat in his seat calmly, considering all he'd heard, all he'd seen. There was no evidence, none at all. Yet in Sirius's eyes was not the crazed look of a mass murderer, but that of a desperate, broken man.

"You're asking me to believe the impossible."

Sirius hung his head in defeat.

"And I do."

His head snapped back up. Hope flickered again in his eyes, and Albus saw it quite clearly- the shadow of an eleven-year-old boy, so eager to prove he was nothing like his family. In that instant, Albus knew his instincts were correct. Sirius Black was innocent- but there wasn't much time.

Ah. Time.

"Now I must ask you the impossible, Sirius. I must ask you to trust me."

"Anything, Dumbledore, anything…"

"Do not try to leave this room."

"I am going to lock you in. It is-" he consulted his watch, "five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

Another year over, another test beginning. Harry sat glumly in the chair just vacated by the now former Professor Lupin. It was a terribly sad state of affairs, Albus had to privately agree. Remus had been one of the better instructors to have filled the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. But Albus still had a job for Remus- he would not be unsupported.

The door shut. Remus was gone. Harry looked up at the sound and yanked Albus right out of his thoughts.

"Why so miserable, Harry?" Albus asked quietly. "You should be very proud of yourself after last night."

"It didn't make any difference," Harry said with a bitterness that was more suitable for man twice his age. "Pettigrew got away."

"Didn't make any difference?" Albus tilted his head to the side, coming to stand next to Harry. "It made all the difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate."

And he was proud, terribly proud, of the skill and strength Harry and his friends had shown.

"Professor Dumbledore…yesterday, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very…very strange," Harry said, and this was not at all what Albus had expected him to say. An uneasy feeling crept up inside his stomach. The third test had started.

"Indeed?" Albus asked, attempting to remain delicate. "Er…stranger than usual, you mean?"

"Yes…her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said…she said Voldemort's servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight…she said the servant would help him come back to power." Harry stared up at Albus, who himself felt rather like he'd just swallowed a brick. "And then she sort of became normal again, and she couldn't remember anything she'd said. Was it…was she making a real prediction?"

Albus was impressed Harry had recognized what was happening. Lightly, he said "Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been. Who'd have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise…"

Tell him. Tell him now, he can take it.

"But…" Harry looked up again, eyes wide and confused. "But I stopped Sirius and Professor Lupin from killing Pettigrew! That makes it my fault if Voldemort comes back!"

No. Not yet.

"It does not," Albus said quietly, hiding the growing concern behind his ever-present mask of calm. "Hasn't your experience with the Time-Turner taught you anything, Harry? The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed. Professor Trelawney, bless her, is living proof of that…you did a very noble thing, in saving Pettigrew's life.

"But if he helps Voldemort back to power…!"

"Pettigrew owes his life to you. You have sent Voldemort a deputy that is in your debt," Albus assured. In many ways, what Harry had told him gave Albus a flicker of hope. Hope Harry, probably, did not understand. "When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them…and I'm much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servant in the debt of Harry Potter."

"I don't want a connection with Pettigrew!" Harry insisted. "He betrayed my parents!" Albus sympathized with the boy- but he still did not understand.

"This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable, Harry," Albus explained, as gently as he could. "But trust me…the time may come when you will be very glad you saved Pettigrew's life."

Harry, who seemed to have lost his voice, gave Albus a long, indignant look. Albus could only smile, despite the gravity of the situation, despite the thoughts rolling in his head. Another prophecy, and Voldemort almost certain to rise again, and quite soon if this new prophecy was to be believed.

Albus had known this day would come. He had known it for years. He was prepared now, far more than he'd ever been, thanks to the little diary hidden away in his office. There was time still, time to move forward with the plan…and time to arm Harry with the truth, as well.

Yet when Albus spoke again, he said none of those things.

"I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry," he said, choosing to comfort instead. Harry looked down towards his feet. "He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it."

Harry, who'd been considering the tips of his shoes very carefully, glanced back up. If ever there was a moment for the truth, it was now…

"I thought it was my dad who'd conjured my Patronus. I mean, when I saw myself across the lake…I thought I was seeing him."

Albus's heart lurched. All thought of prophecies and Dark Lords flew from his head

"An easy mistake to make," Albus said softly. He sat upon the edge of the desk, gazing down at Harry. Harry, who looked terribly small all of a sudden. An orphan too, and Albus knew well the feeling never went away. "I expect you'll tire of hearing it, but you do look extraordinarily like James. Except for the eyes…you have your mother's eyes."

"It was stupid, thinking it was him," Harry said, shaking his head. "I mean, I knew he was dead."

"You think the dead we love ever truly leave us?" Albus said with a pang of empathy. "You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him."

To have loved and lost was both a great and terrible thing. But to have never known, and still to love so deeply…Harry never ceased to amaze Albus.

"How else could you produce that particular Patronus?" He leaned his head slightly towards Harry, and said very seriously, "Prongs rode again last night."

Harry again stared quite intently at the top of his shoes. Then he looked up, an obvious question in his eyes. Albus smiled.

"Last night Sirius told me all about how they became Animagi," he said. "An extraordinary achievement- not least, keeping it quiet from me. And then I remembered the most unusual form your Patronus took, when it charged Mr. Malfoy down at your Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. You know, Harry, in a way, you did see your father last night…you found him inside yourself."

Albus rested a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, and with a sad smile, left him to this thoughts.

For the third time, he had failed the test. And now, more than ever before, Albus realized how immense the flaw in his brilliant plan had become.

Time was running out.