Everything Black | Harry Potter

11. Tomorrow

It was so late into the night it was almost morning. As Albus Dumbledore finished signing the document with a tired sigh, he lent back in his chair and let his mind wander. Gazing around his office, he couldn't help casting his mind back to the previous night – the night he found young Harry in front of the Mirror.

The boy was. . . a mystery. Not at all what he had expected to see.

When he had set up the room with the mirror, he thought, perhaps, that the young wizard would first venture out on his own, or that he would share the gift with the youngest Weasley boy. He certainly hadn't given much thought to the idea that young Harry would not only share the knowledge of the gift with the Malfoy Heir, but also trust the boy with the knowledge of his deepest, most desperate desires.

Although, in a surprising kind of way, it somewhat made sense.

Albus has performed many acts in his long life, seen all manner of peculiar occurrences and been present for the strangest of things. During all these things, it was his capacity to expect the unexpected – or at least, not be wholly surprised when the unexpected occurred – that kept his three steps ahead.

Suffice to say, the young boy's ability to circumvent his calculations was beginning to concern Albus.

Him and the Malfoy boy both.

The friendship between the two was. . . disconcerting, to say the least. While, yes, Albus was more than overjoyed that the young Potters' time being raised by his muggle relatives hadn't seemed to affect him as badly as Albus feared it would, to be such good friends with the Malfoy boy raised a few red flags.

Firstly, and most importantly, young Mr. Malfoy was that – a Malfoy. A young, impressionable boy whose father is a former death eater – more importantly, still a Voldemort sympathiser – and Dark wizard to boot, and mother a sister to Bellatrix Lestrange and daughter of the infamous Black family. Combined with hundreds of years of pureblood prejudice and propriety, the boy being such close friends with "the saviour of the wizarding world" could only spell trouble – either through the two falling out, Harry 'turning' young Mr. Malfoy away from his family (Merlin knows the uproar Lucious kick up) or Mr. Malfoy 'converting' Harry to their side (a disaster indeed).

The other thing that bothered Albus, and bothered him deeply, was the friendship itself. For the life of him, Albus couldn't figure out how the two had become so. . . close. He was well aware that children such like Harry tend to latch on and latch on tight to the first friend they find, and he supposes that the young Malfoy boy was most likely in a similar position, but even then, the friendship made next to no sense. He had gleaned from the ghosts and portraits, the two had first met a month before school, just briefly while shopping, and had no other contact aside from the occasional letter.

And yet, the two acted as if they'd been friends for years. And not friends in that fickle sense that young children usually are, but in that unshaking way that only seemed to come with age and experience in loss and heartbreak.

Though, Albus thought as he watched the students return to the castle after their break, maybe his paranoia is showing in his old age. Perhaps it's just the emotionally maturity of the two boys skewing his judgement – after all, it's not all that unusual for some children to be more mature than others, and perhaps that the two have found that in each other is throwing him off. Undoubtedly, the Malfoy Heir's innocence would've been stomped out years ago to prevent a potential embarrassment to the family name, and enough said about Harry's situation.

Yes, it must be that.

But to sooth an old man's mind, he had set up the mirror test, just to be sure. He just. . . had to know, had to know he hadn't made a mistake leaving the boy with his relatives, had to know he hadn't just created another Tom Riddle.