REQUIEM - [h.p]

IV; something amiss

| YEAR 4; CHAPTER FOUR |
SOMETHING AMISS

     Walking quietly through Hogwarts' corridors was one of Albus' favourite pastimes. Despite the lack of the many students' shoes sliding and tapping against the castle floor, the entirety of the school always seemed to emit its own type of sound. A song of sorts that carried on whimsically through the empty hallways, classrooms, and hidden rooms. 

Flashes of moments long past were common in old age, let alone his. Albus still remembered when he would wander along these halls as a young lad. He too, was once a student, once filled with vitality and innocent naivete. Now he was growing frail, and that sheen which once covered his eyes was long since stripped from his face; his bones would creak and ache, his mind would occasionally go afloat for longer periods than could be considered normal. Sometimes he would let it, let himself relive old memories, where things were far simpler, and his knowledge less overbearing. 

But he still had a purpose to fulfill, people to protect, another dark lord to fight, a prophecy to unfold. Time, it seemed, was something that Albus couldn't fight but a thing in which he did everything to combat against, nonetheless. 

Memories would always weigh heavily in his mind. Albus has seen far too much in his many years of existence, seen things that he would much rather forget, things that would haunt his dreams whenever he closed his eyes; some of those things were his doings, some of them were not. Some things occurred so long ago that they blended together, and he could barely make out the beginning from the end.

The very existence of Tom Riddle was both a curse and a tragedy that was equally avoidable as it was unavoidable. Perhaps if Albus had watched the boy more closely before it all went bad, perhaps if Merope never stumbled near Wool's Orphanage. Or perhaps, there was nothing anyone could have done that would have made a difference to the outcome that was Voldemort. The very debate was something that couldn't be answered, so thus, what lay at the table was just the weary acceptance that the past will remain no matter the effort. Rather, Albus had long ago decided to forgo the dealings of the past and focus on the matters of the future. For the future is something that can be manipulated, if not seen.

Another year was on the precipice now, Harry Potter's fourth year, and the year of the Triwizard Tournament. Trouble was already brewing over the horizon. With the news of the havoc that wreaked through the Quidditch World Cup, Albus was sure that it wouldn't be long now, before that trouble reached Hogwarts. 

Harry had many challenges to face. And face them he must, if the boy was to be prepared for his inevitable clash with Voldemort. Albus could only nudge the young boy and watch carefully from the sidelines; whatever happened next was beyond his knowledge, so far as he could logically deduce. Soon, he will have to show Harry Potter the truth behind Voldemort, reveal the boy that became the monster.  

Still, the trouble that had been — and still was — creeping closer to the school, he feared, was also beginning to expose a different truth, a far more ancient and dangerous truth than that of the Dark Lord. Something that Albus feared greatly, and the outcome of that truth ever being uncovered was incalculable. Catastrophic was the only word that could hope to describe it. If he had known fourteen years ago of this truth, there may have been more time for him to properly stow it away. But that knowledge was only discovered a year ago, and now the damage was done, traces still remained to be found and dangers still lurked within the shadows.