BETA READ by tsuj

Chapter 1

Harry immediately recognized his surroundings. The one difference he could perceive between now and fifty years back was the absence of the whimpering and thumping of the helpless, agonized creature once known as Voldemort. He looked down at himself and seemed to be clothed, unlike last time. He suddenly noticed the two seats under the high, sparkling ceiling on which he and Dumbledore had sat half a century before. He swore they hadn't been there before, just like last time.

He sighed, for he knew this time there would be no going back. He wouldn't return to life, never again. He just hoped Ginny would be strong enough to let herself grieve and go on. He didn't want her to spend the rest of her life in misery just because he'd – he knew she was strong enough. She'd survive, though the thought of her made tears sting behind his eyes. He'd loved her for nearly all his life, and although he was a wizard, one of the best some said, he thought the best magic was love. Dumbledore had taught him so many years back that love was the strongest power. And he'd been right.

And still the mystery about love was something which Lord Voldemort hadn't understood in his life. Harry's brow crinkled. He wondered… Where would Voldemort be right now? Would he effectively have ended up as the needy creature Harry had eyed fifty years back? He couldn't stop wracking his brain over it. He, the Dark Lord, who had considered himself as the best magician in magical history. Harry snorted. He hadn't been the best magician. If he had, how could he have allowed a seventeen-year-old, non-graduated Harry to steal his life? The best wizard in the world had been Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore… the best Headmaster Hogwarts had ever known. He had been convinced of that half a century ago, when the old man had died, being blown into the air much like an old doll by the green light from Snape's spell of Death. And still when he had seen Dumbledore's limbs lying there spread-eagled at the foot of the Tower. Even seeing him dead, Harry felt Dumbledore was still the greatest wizard ever. He had long known he would never meet such a great wizard as Albus Dumbledore ever again. And now he could look back on the fifty years he had lived after the wizard he had known so well had passed, Harry was quite certain that he had been right all along.

Harry, however, had to admit that his youngest son wasn't far from stepping into the old, grey haired and bearded man's shoes. What with Albus being your first name and Severus being your second... He'd become a fine man, just like his older brother and sister, both Aurors at the Ministry of Magic. Harry's initial impression of the Auror corps – when he became an Auror – was that it did protect people and ensure there was justice in the Wizarding world, but strayed from these goals at some point. Albus had been unlike his brother and sister, and had started teaching at Hogwarts as a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for a couple of years. He hadn't directly found his place and had had to do some searching until he had found his calling, too.

Harry thought of his grandchildren, too: Finley, Hayley and little Evelyn, Lily and Philip's children, and Phoenix and Mallow, James and Gabrielle's children. Last time Harry had visited the household, he remembered they had been trying to decide about one of two name spellings, Sean or Shawn, for their unborn son, who would be arriving in less than a month. Unfortunately, he would never see that newest asset of the family, but he was sure that little boy would find a happy home in the loving family of James Potter II. Harry thought his oldest son was the best father to his children. He would have never expected that, because he had been so wild in his young years, like Harry's father, who had died protecting his wife and son. He must have been a good father, too.

His oldest children had both found love and settled down, but not Albus – not yet. He wanted to wait until the right person crossed his path, Harry suspected, though they had never talked about that. And then he remembered that Albus Dumbledore, the great defender of love, never seemed to have found his equal himself. Maybe he had, long before Harry had been born. Harry didn't know. He had never asked. It hadn't ever come to question before.

Harry sat down on one of the two familiar seats and sighed. From where he sat, he looked around to find a possible sign as to where he should go. He chuckled to himself, imagining a sign on the wall saying 'Dead men, this way!' He closed his bright green eyes and shook his head at this. It could have been a joke of Ron or Hugo, who was just like his father.

"Ah, Harry. Here we meet again," a low voice sounded from the seat beside Harry. "It has been a little while," the voice continued in the same kind tone. "Fifty years, if I recall well."

Harry looked aside to see Albus Dumbledore sitting there beside him, wearing the same sweeping ropes of midnight blue as he had the last time Harry had been there. Dumbledore smiled kindly, and Harry smiled back, a warm feeling of happiness welling up into his chest.

"What were you thinking about, dear boy?" Dumbledore wondered. "Well, dear man, I should say, I guess." He smiled wider, grabbing hold of Harry's arm, giving it a light squeeze. "Nevertheless I'm still proud of you. That last time we sat here, you dared go back and fulfilled the Prophecy by killing Lord Voldemort, possibly the most evil wizard ever known in history. You were already a man when we last met, but I'm afraid I didn't want to really admit that to myself."

"I've had help. Without Ron and Hermione, the Order and the members of the DA, I wouldn't have succeeded in your mission, nor without the help of Snape and yourself," Harry said, looking up at his old Headmaster, in whose eyes the customary twinkle seemed to be more visible than Harry had ever seen when they were both still alive.

"You're still the same," Dumbledore stated, still smiling. "Still just as modest as I remember."