Fall from Grace

Time Rewound

Chapter 2

Time Rewound

"Who am I?" Harry repeated. He gave a scoffing laugh. "You're joking, right sir?"

"While I admit I do have a very clever sense of humor, this is not a joke young man," Professor Dumbledore said.

"Good because this isn't funny," Harry said angrily. "Are you now going to tell me to stop 'moping' about over Sirius because it's been a week like everyone else?"

"I'm sorry young man, but I'm a bit confused," Professor Dumbledore said. "I do not know what it is you are speaking of."

Harry's anger rose. "You don't do you?" he demanded.

"No, and I would advise you to calm down," Dumbledore said.

"Calm down? Calm down!? AFTER EVERYTHING YOU'VE PUT ME THROUGH!?" Harry yelled. "Do you know what Umbridge did when you left? Do you even know what she was doing under your nose? Blood Quills, Sir! She forced your students to scar themselves with blood quills!" He thrust his hand in Dumbledore's face, the white scars reading I must not tell lies visible in the light. "And not just for the serious offenses, but for anything! She tortured your students and how did you react? You ran away instead of fighting the Ministry! You left me! You left and when I went to the Ministry to rescue Sirius, you only appeared at the end. You could have saved him! You should have saved him but instead, you allowed him to die! You couldn't even kill Voldemort! And that was just this year Professor! One fucking week ago! Let's not forget what happened last year with the Triwizard Tournament! Allowing me to fight in a competition where I could have died—even though it was obvious someone put my name in there!"

Harry stopped to catch his breath only to see the continued confused but concerned, face Dumbledore was having. It only infuriated Harry more. "Why aren't you apologizing?" he demanded. "Why aren't you groveling for messing up my life and turning me into a weapon?"

"Because I have no recollection of anything you have just said," Dumbledore said sternly. "However, I am concerned. What is your name, child?"

"My name? My name? You bloody well know my name!" Harry yelled. "Harry bloody Potter! The boy who lived only to be carted off to abusive muggles I am forced to call relatives and when I had the single chance to escape them for good with Sirius you've put a stop to it! I told you what the Dursleys did to me and you did nothing! Locked in a cupboard! Abused daily with beatings and starvation! It is only because of magic that I'm even alive, Sir! You know that and you did nothing! You always do nothing! Just swoop in at the last fucking minute to clean things up and pretend that everything is fucking okay! WELL, I'M NOT OKAY! I'M HURTING AND NOBODY CARES! NOBODY CARES! NOT YOU! NOT MY FRIENDS! NOBODY!"

He was crying again. He hated that he was crying in front of Dumbledore. In an instant, he felt arms around him, and Harry felt like a child as he cried in his headmaster's robes. "I care, Harry Potter," Professor Dumbledore muttered. "I do not know who you are or how you got here, but I care. It is obvious that you are hurt, deeply and severely, and I care. Come along, we should talk more about this in the Headmaster's office."

"What are you talking about?" Harry muttered. "You don't care."

"I do Harry, I care for all of my students, which apparently you are," Professor Dumbledore said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrapped peppermint. He offered it to Harry with a soft smile, "This will help your throat until we can get you some honeyed tea."

Harry ate the peppermint without thinking. He followed Professor Dumbledore down the corridors, looking out the windows as he did so. It truly was after midnight it seemed. He still did not understand how he lost two hours in that corridor, or how it was that Dumbledore looked younger and somehow forgotten him. Maybe the old man got hit with a Memory charm and dyed his hair. But why would he do that? And why would he use magic to make himself look younger when he hasn't done that before?